#//Too easy to lose; and she doubts they’d let her keep them in her realm for the rest of their life

[dutybcrne]

Cloud Retainer will act so formal and put together, but. In a romantic relationship, there will be. A Notable increase in how affectionate she is to her person.

[hangekitty]

Hiii, I wanted to ask if you could write a f!Hange x fem!reader one shot where the reader is outside the Walls for a mission. Usually hange would be with them being their Partner and everything but for some reason can't. So when they come back they stand in the front row and search for their girlfriend but can't see her and the group is so much smaller so they already know what happend and there is only one thought in their head something like...nonono this is not happening right now.... a few days later a small group stands before the Walls and explain that they got seperated from their group when Titans attacked but managed to hide, find their horses and ride back at night. The reader goes to Hange and finds them in their shared room. Broken and hopeless, ready to give up and when the reader starts talking they think they are going crazy but when she touches them they realize that the reader is real and alive and just throws themselves at her and very gentle smut and fluff happens.

Okay sorry for my english and this was way too long😅

But I hope you decide to write this and if you do thank you soo much❤❤

Hange x f!Reader - Lost without you

Oh my I loved writing this. The thought of a grieving Hange is too much so I’m glad this is contains fluff and smut! Shoutout to @sweetfaun for grammar and editing checks! 🌸

Genre: fluff, smut, 18+

Warnings: subtle mention of suicide, fingering, tribbing

Word count: 3417

A/N: I listened to the “falling in love with Hange Zöe” playlist on Spotify by ObviouslyMoss whilst writing this if anyone is interested. I might keep music a running theme on my work. AFAB Hange - I may have accidentally made them a bit softer than usual but come on they are a big softie.

The life of a soldier in the scout regiment is one of duty and dedication. At any moment you could be asked to give up your heart, your life, and your soul for humanity. It is strongly advised that upon becoming a scout you are to leave behind all personal feelings and relationships as there is a possibility you will lose everything in a blink of an eye. This is something that is easier said than done, as despite the consequences each soldier is still only human.

Regardless of any warnings, there was no stopping squad leader Hange Zoe falling for their fellow squad leader – you. Perhaps it was the way you laughed with them, or how you helped them with their elaborate experiments, or maybe that one time you convinced Hange to shower with you. Hange was smitten, and fortunately so were you. Only the Gods knew what Hange would do without you, and if they were ever to lose you…. It simply wasn’t worth thinking about. You were everything to them, their reason to be alive; so, if there ever was a day that you were no more it would feel as if Hange had lost their entire world.

The two of you had dated for little over a year. The way in which Hange had asked if their feelings for you were reciprocated was adorable. They had thought to surprise you by naming the four titans being held in captivity ‘Will, Yew, Bee and, Myne’. Moblit had assisted with the entire thing, having taken the time to write up each name on an individual plaque and arranging them accordingly. Hange had everything set up, ready and waiting for when you were leaving a meeting and had sent Moblit to escort you back to the research labs. Upon your arrival, Hange grabbed your hand and excitedly announced that they had successfully caught four titans for experimentation. As you looked upon them, noticing the quaint plaques that featured a tidy penmanship – you assumed it must belong to Moblit, as Hange’s scrawl was illegible at the best of times.

“Will…. Yew…. Bee…Myne?” You read aloud and before you even had the time to process the play on words, Hange let out an astounding “Yes, of course I will!” and wrapped themself around you. Admittedly, you were confused at first, but you soon caught on and admitted your feelings for real.

From that point, you were always together. Whether it was on expeditions or within the lab, it was a rarity to see you two together. Commander Erwin had granted you permission to share a room together. Fortunately, so, as the constant charades of having to sneak into each other’s rooms at night were beginning to get exhausting. Soon it had got to the point where sharing your space with Hange had become second nature, and that you were unable to sleep without them by your side.

---

It was the Summer of 849, and Erwin had organised an unexpected expedition. It hadn’t been that long since the last and you wondered why there was such a rush to go beyond the walls once again in such a short period of time. The unexpected nature of Erwin’s plans meant that Hange wasn’t able to attend this expedition on account of two titans that were being held in the research facilities. Hange had named them Charles and Domery – peculiar names, but that was to be assumed of Hange Usually you would be expected to assist Hange with their research, however on this occasion your presence on the field was required due to you being a Squad Leader.

“It’s just two days, sweetheart,” you cooed as the both of you rested in bed. You were sat up, lounging back within the abundance of pillows, whilst Hange’s head rested in your lap as you attempted to hush them asleep by stroking their hair. Despite your attempts, it was inevitable that Hange would spend a majority of the night lying awake due to the anxiety pooling in their stomach. You two were practically joined at the hip by now, and every time you had to separate Hange found themselves unable to sleep. They had wrapped their arms around your leg, hugging it tighter with every minute that passed. They were so scared of losing you, and so any moment they had left with you they wanted to stay conscious.

“But, y/n, I won’t be with you,” Hange whined, the irregular softness of their voice tugging at your heartstrings. This was always the worst part of the job – having to leave your loved ones behind, unsure whether or not you would ever see them again. However, it was important. You had to do this for the sake of humanity; it’s what both you and Hange had understood and had committed to upon signing up for the Survey Corp. Sometimes you wished you could just run away together and leave it all behind. You cup Hange’s face in your hands, delicately stroking their soft cheeks with the pads of your thumb.

“I know, my sweet, I know. I’ll be okay, I promise,”.

---

Despite their being an air of doubt in their mind, Hange believed that you would keep your promise of returning unharmed. Whenever Hange was unable to attend an expedition, they were sure to stand in the front row of bystanders that were awaiting the return of the scouts. Five squads had left just two days ago, but it seemed that only three had successfully returned today.

“Erwin… Levi… Miche… Gelgar,” Hange listed off as they could see their companions passing through the gates. Their eyes frantically darted through the hoard to see whether you had snuck in, to see whether they had simply missed your arrival. Panic began coursing through their veins, but it soon began to settle as a majority of your squad came into view. Evidently, the group was smaller than when you had initially left for the expedition; and the remaining members were beaten and brushed – with one unfortunate soldier missing both an arm and a leg.

“No no no nonononono, this isn’t right. Where is she?!” Was all Hange could think. Blind panic took over, and Hange found themselves moving towards one of your squad members and demanded to know where you were.

“Where is y/n? Where is she?” Hange practically screamed. The looks on everyone’s face was grim; this wasn’t looking good at all.

“We were separated. The last we saw of Squad Leader y/n they were fighting off an abnormal. We waited for them at our usual checkpoint, but no one came”. One dishevelled soldier finally answered. At this point, Hange decided to just leave immediately – not even bothering to welcome their friends back. They crawled into your shared bed, curling in on themselves and taking hold of the sheets. Tears fell down their face as they attempted to conceal a painful, horrifying wail.

“This can’t be happening” they whimpered “You promised,”.

---

A couple of days later, Hange was still in the bedroom. The numbness they felt only allowed them to drink something that Levi bought in every few hours. He never said anything during these visits, only sitting on the bed with Hange for a while and then silently taking his leave.

Despite the agonising feeling in their heart, Hange still found it funny how they’d gone from being unable to sleep without your presence to continuously sleeping throughout the days. Perhaps it was as close as they could get to being with you, as you had seemingly passed into the next realm. Or perhaps it was just a sad coping mechanism as being awake felt far too painful. They were on the edge of just giving up and considering finding a new life away from the scout regiment. Admittedly Hange had felt disappointed in themselves, having allowed themselves to develop feeling and leaving them vulnerable to heartache. Through the darkest moments, they considering just ending it all in order to be reunited with you.

---

What Hange hadn’t realised is that you and the rest of the squad had returned days after everyone else. Albeit you were all looking a little worse for wear, but overall, you were okay. Upon hearing of your arrival Moblit had immediately sought after you. He clutched your hands into his own. A worried expression was painted across his face.

“y/n, you’re okay! What happened?”

“We were intercepted by titans and my squad had to split. We had no choice but to hide and wait until it was safe for us to come back. We all had to find and gather our horse – it wasn’t an easy feat. Then we had to ride back home during the night. I’m sorry we worried you”. You let out an exasperated sigh. Being a squad leader was difficult, made even more so by being left out in the field with no food or water.

Upon receiving news of your arrival home, Levi and Erwin had come to the courtyard with a few others, all armed with bread and water hoping to nourish both you and your squad.

“y/n, you’re alright” Levi began. Despite his apathetic face, he was pleased to see you. Before allowing you to gulp down your water he placed a firm grasp on your shoulder and looked at you directly. “Please let Four Eyes know you’re okay. They’re not doing too good, and it’s been quiet without them.”

You choke on your water upon hearing this. Oh Gods, how you have fretted about Hange and how sick with worry and anxiety they’d be. Honestly, you’d half expected them to rush out and greet you. However, you already knew that Hange had probably assumed the worst and went straight into mourning. Feeling a burning sensation in your throat as tears began to prick your eyes, you excused yourself from your captain – determined to not cry in front of him. Despite the deep exhaustion you were feeling, pure determination allowed you to rush back to your living quarters and towards your own bedroom.

---

Once you reach the entrance to your room, you have half a mind to slam open the door and leap straight onto the bed where you assumed Hange was currently laying. You imagined planting them with a million kisses, but you knew you had to take a gentler approach than that. When Hange was feeling fragile, all they needed was a soft touch.

You opened the door a little, only to be met with a groan.

“No thank you Captain, please leave me alone,” Hange muttered, curling in on themselves even more. Oh, how hollow their voice sounded, full of sorrow and guilt.

“Hange?” You gently called out. Immediately their head turned towards you. Was it really you? “I’m here, darling.”

Hange shot up immediately, staring at your face and drinking in your presence. You were smiling, ready to give them a hug, but Hange’s face wasn’t that of love but instead one of panic and confusion.

“No no, you aren’t real. I know you’re not there; you’re gone! My brain must be having a breakdown I- “

You interrupt their murmurings and reach forward to take hold of Hange’s hand, placing in onto your chest directly over your heartbeat. Their eyes dart between your face and their own hand. You could feel them trembling under your touch until realisation had set in.

“y/n, it’s really you!”. Their eyes began welling with tears, causing you to begin crying all over again. This time, however, it was with a smile. Hange lunged forward and held you tight to their body.

“WAAAAHHH!” They yelled out before tackling you to the bed, crying and wailing the whole time. “Y/N YOU’RE OKAY! YOU’RE OKAY!” they repeated, not realising you were practically suffocating under their intense grip on you. There they were arms around your chest and stomach whilst rubbing their face into your neck and squirming with pure joy.

“Hange!” you giggled “Hange, I can’t breathe!”. A little alarmed, Hange let go a little and positioned you in front of them. They cupped your face with both hands, smiling at you before kissing you intently. You would have thought it would be as rough as passionate as the hugs had been, but instead this kiss was gentle and meaningful. Hange pulled away and their eyes began studying your face.

“How…What happened?” They asked, their voice gentle and soft.

“Some abnormal titans had us cornered. We had to hide and then find our horses again. We couldn’t ride home until nightfall the following day, but I’m back now. I’m safe”

That was all the words Hange had needed to hear before pulling you into another gentle kiss. Whilst you were lost in such contentment, Hange reached down to touch your thigh; earning themself an excited yelp just because they took their chance and pushed further to stick their tongue into your mouth. This gentle, romantic kiss gradually became one that was more desperate, steamier. Their hands wandered down your body, touching every inch possible as if they still weren’t completely convinced you were real.

Hange pulled away, looking up and down your body with a mischievous look in their eye. Although you were tired, you felt an immense desire to just be taken there and then – to connect your bodies and become one. And how could you resist with the face Hange was giving you in that moment? They moved down your body, planting kisses and gentle nips whilst removing any fabric that they met along the way.

“It must have been tough out there,” Hange began as they removed their shirt – their binder soon following. “I missed you greatly,”

“I…I missed you too Ha-“ Your train of thought was interrupted as Hange began nibbling at your thighs. You could feel blood rushing to your cheeks as their dark brown eyes met yours.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now lay back and let me reward you for being a brave little soldier,” Hange purred before diving headfirst in between your thighs, laying further kisses and kitten licks at your soft, sensitive flesh. If Hange was to have glanced up to your face, they would have seen the stars in your eyes - your face to full of love and admiration. And it was all for them.

Noticing as Hange was getting close to your wet pussy, you shook yourself out of your trance. Panic shot through you, and you held a rather surprised Hange’s face in your palms.

“I…I don’t think I want that. I have only just got back and I…” You could barely finish your sentence. You were embarrassed. Several days of fighting titans without any opportunity to efficiently clean yourself had left you feeling self-conscious. Hange cocked their head to the side. You could see the cogs turning in their head as they worked out what exactly the issue was.

“Oh! Don’t worry, you’re absolutely fine. But if you don’t want that…” Hange lifted themselves above you, cupping you through your underwear. “Would something like this make you more comfortable?”. They smirked as you let out a squeak before nodding eagerly.

Hange leaned in, laying hungry kisses against you as they played with your clothed clit. The whines you let out against their mouth only made them increase the pressure through the fabric of your underwear, and you could feel their smirks as they did so. As Hange’s mouth travelled further south to latch onto a pert nipple they took the opportunity to slip a couple of things through the elastic of your underwear, stroking along your folds and now aching nub. You attempted to cross your legs at the sensation as you were already beginning to feel worked up and sensitive. Amused by your squirms, Hange let out a small giggle and moved their free hand towards your other nipple. You could already feel a build-up, a hot and heavy sensation as your lower abandon appeared to coil and tighten. They then slipped two digits inside of you, ensuring their thumb remained circling on your clit as they arched their fingers inside of you. Your soft moans became deep and shaky, you were sure you were getting close to your release.

“Hange~” you purred. Your words were golden to your lover, and you could feel them relentlessly pick up the pace until you reached out to pull their hand away from you.

“y/n?” Hange asked breathlessly against your chest.

“I want to try something together,” you cooed. Hange looked at you, their face both full of lust and curiosity. You began to reposition yourself, so you were now over Hange. Giving a cheeky grin, you pulled down their trousers and underwear. You then quickly whipped off your own underwear, leaving the both of you completely naked with no barriers between your skin. Manoeuvring Hange onto their back, guiding them to rest upon the abundance of soft cushions at the top of the bed, you nudged their knees apart to reveal their glistening sex. Hange was already wet and raring to go ahead with whatever you had planned. After a few strokes of your fingers against their folds, you positioned yourself between their thighs so that your own pussy was aligned with theirs. You reached your lips forward to suck and lick Hange’s tanned nipples before pressing yourself against them, rocking your hips back and forth; your clits throbbing as your slick rubbed against each other.

Whilst still sucking at Hange’s breast you reached under them and pressed their back up, increasing the pleasure below. It was a strange position, something you two hadn’t tried before, but neither of you were complaining. Undeniably, this level of intimacy was appreciated considering recent events. You couldn’t help but moan out, and you shot a look up towards Hange’s face which was contorted in pleasure as they let our their own breathy moans. To add to the intensity, you slipped one hand between the two of you, stroking your fingers against either of your clits. You turned your focus onto Hange, although both of you were feeling incredibly sensitive.

“I love you; I love you,” you moaned. You could feel the knot within your tummy releasing, and you clamped your eyes tight shut and moved to mark Hange’s neck with dark bruises. With a few more thrusts of your hips Hange soon released against your own fingers, letting out a shrill wail as they did so. You held Hange in a tight embrace, arms wrapped desperately against each other as if you never wanted to let go and basked within each other’s post-orgasm glow.

After your breaths levelled out and you calmed down, you flopped to Hange’s side on the bed. You scooted over, bringing their back against your chest as you spooned them. Continuing to wrap them tight in your embrace, you left quick desperate kisses against their throat whilst letting out soft words of affirmation against their skin.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Hange sighed, squeezing your hands as they rested against their chest. You left a gentle kiss against the back of their head and nuzzled into the crook of their neck.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, I never want to put you in that position again,” You said, beginning to stroke at Hange’s hair. You wiggled further up the bed and laid Hange’s head onto your lap once again. As you looked down at them you felt nothing but pure adoration. However, as Hange looked up at you you could see the beginnings of tears in those big brown eyes. They gave your hand a soft squeeze.

“Please tell me you’re going to stay for the next experiment. If you don’t I’ll just have to fight Erwin to keep you for myself,” they exclaimed, all traces of previous sadness now gone from their face as they punched their arms into the air.

“I promise I’ll stay. Anything for you, my titan crazed maniac,”. You planted a soft kiss against their forehead and relaxed back into the pillows. “We really should shower though”.

“Do we have to?” Hange groaned against your lap, barely audible against your legs. Even now you were convinced Hange was hydrophobic, but you knew exactly how to lure them into a warm clean shower.

“I mean, we could shower together?” you said, your voice sounding tempting. This clearly piqued Hange’s interest as they looked up with a cheeky grin.

[mmvalentine]

Will you do an Acotar scene lift from Rhys’s perspective under the mountain in between the trials? We only get vague mentions of what happens because of the wine Freyre and I think it would just be really interesting to see Rhys’s perspective. I love your writing btw it always makes me smile to see you’ve posted something ❤️

My darling let me tell you I really struggled with this, because these scenes hurt me a lot. Re-reading the scenes, it seems like Feyre spends the whole time really sick and wondering what happened while she was drugged and practically dissociating. BUT, I persist because I know you've been following for a while, and I so appreciate your support and wanted to make you something. I hope this is okay, it's not exactly the steamy stuff I usually write but it's my interpretation of what was going on (and let's be honest, my way of making sense of why Rhys was making not the best decisions).

In Between

Feyre was in danger. Again.

Aramantha's guards were dogs, and I wasn't surprised by this, but it was exhausting. Every time I turned my back there was something they were up to- taunting Feyre, giving her impossible tasks, threatening to torture her. As if being locked in a cell Under The Mountain wasn't bad enough.

I wasn't too proud to admit that I had become quite attached to the little human slip of a thing. She was so small, so fragile, so mortal. And yet here she was, a thorn in Aramantha's side the way that I... I couldn't be. Not if I wanted her eyes far away from Velaris.

So there I was, living vicariously through a human girl and secretly rooting for her like it's the only way I can defy Aramantha. I suppose it is.

For the last few nights, I'd taken to walking past the cell block to listen in on the guards. Nothing too alarming was happening for the first couple of days, but now that the next task was nearing, they had new orders. I was torn between exasperation that Feyre seemed to constantly be in peril, and a spark of interest. If Aramantha was trying to get Feyre killed between tasks, it meant some part of her was truly afraid she'd win. And I liked the idea of Aramantha afraid.

But the immediate situation on hand was that the guards were going to make her remove the salt from a high fae's bathwater, or else they'd pull the teeth out of her head.

For Cauldron's sake.

I would have thought it better for Feyre to sit quietly in her cell and be forgotten. At least she'd get a moment's peace between Aramantha's tasks. But in fact it seemed that Aramantha did not mean her to make it to the next task, and no one was watching her schemes.

So.

I'd have to keep an eye on her myself.

But how to do so, when I was also expected at Aramantha's revels every night? I'd just have to bring her with me.

If Under the Mountain was modeled after the Court of Nightmares, then at least I knew the rules of the game. I knew how to make people notice her.

And so the next night, before the guards could get to her again, I sent in spies to make sure she was going to be fit for a Nightmare revel. They brought clothes- but they were barely clothes. She'd be ripped apart in seconds with that much bare skin. Think, think.

There was one other way to cover skin. In the Illyrian tradition, with ink. I was sure enough of my reputation with the court that no one would risk touching her I was sure to find out. Okay. So Cerridwen and Nuala would paint her every bare patch of skin, and then no one could touch her.

The night of the revel arrived, and when I went to collect Feyre, she was trying to tear off her dress. Alarm flashed through me. Fool that I am, I hadn't considered the fact that of course she would loathe this role. Humans have such a low tolerance for wickedness.

"I wouldn't do that," I said from the doorway. Not willing to risk coming any closer, and scaring her into a panic.

"Our bargain hasn't started yet," she snapped. Hate flashed in her eyes, and I thought- good. She should hate me. I was Aramantha's whore, right? Fine. Better angry than scared. Better angry than vulnerable.

"Ah, but I need an escort for the party," I told her. Besides, I needed her haughty for the revel. Anything less, and they'd lose interest. "And when I thought of you squatting in that cell all night, alone..." Her eyes glazed hard, and her lips thinned. Perfect. "You look just as I hoped you would."

"Is this necessary?" she hisses at me, gesturing to the paint and silk ensemble.

"Of course," I say, letting cold soak into my voice. "How else would I know if anyone touches you?" To demonstrate, I ran a finger through the paint on her shoulder, and watched the paint fix itself. "The dress won't mar it, and neither will your movements," I told her. She needs to understand. "And I'll remember precisely where my hands have been. But if anyone else touches you- let's say a certain High Lord who enjoys springtime- I'll know."

But this was a serious point. I knew she'd want to go straight to him- Cauldron knows why, Tamlin is an insufferable pup- but I knew what she want. And I knew Tamlin had not a scrap of wit about him and would give it to her. And then Aramantha would tear us all to shreds. So.

I flicked her little upturned nose, noticing suddenly the smattering of freckles there and nearly getting distracted, and fed her the line I knew would stick. "I don't like my belongings tampered with."

If looks could kill, as they say in the Human realm.

"Come," I said. "We're already late."

Of course, that was entirely intentional. I needed all eyes on us- on her as we walked in the room. And indeed every head turned, some bowed but most just gawked at Feyre. We walked al the way to the dais, and stood before Aramantha. And Tamlin.

I'd once told Feyre that I'd wait to tell Tamlin about our little bargain. Wait until the right time. No point in exciting him into a rage while everything hung in the balance, I thought. Then again, if it were my beloved in Aramantha's cells... rage would not be an adequate word. But that was another reason I thought very little of the High Lord of Spring. Maybe a little rage would do him some good.

"Merry Midsummer," I said, bowing to Aramantha. Every time I did it, I wanted to vomit on her feet.

"What have you done with my captive?" she said, displeasure darkening in her eyes. Her tone was light, though, and I knew she'd not make a fuss in front of all these people.

"We made a bargain," I said. "One week with me at the Night Court every month in exchange for my healing services after her first task." I raised her arm to reveal the tattoo, dull next to the shining paint. "For the rest of her life."

I couldn't help it. I stared straight at Aramantha, and knew she understood my words. You tried to have her killed and I helped her. I see life beyond this mountain. I think she's going to win. It was only the thought of my family back home that prevented me from spitting the words in her face.

"Enjoy my party," was her only reply. And Tamlin? Tamlin did nothing. Didn't stir, just gripped the arms of the throne like the useless fuck he was.

I led Feyre away, and wondered if she was going to make it through the night. There was a lot of performing to be done, by both of us, if I was going to keep her out of the cells and away from the guards until the next task. Then my eyes lighted on the feasting table.

"Wine?" I offered Feyre a goblet. The perfect solution- if she drank the wine, she wouldn't have to act. Even more merciful- she wouldn't have to remember. But she shook her head.

I smiled, knowing that it did not make up for the cruel games I'd be playing this whole time. Knowing it'd do little to comfort her. "Drink. You'll need it." As much of the truth as I could tell her. Drink, I begged, kneeling at the doors of her mind.

"No," she said, and I gritted my teeth. Pushed against those doors, the flimsy shields that were far too easy to step through. I'm sorry, Feyre. I'm so sorry.

"Drink," I said, and her fingers latched onto the goblet.

As soon as the wine was gone, Feyre's body went loose. I caught her up in my arms, and her eyes were vacant. It horrified me. It was perfect.

I led her to a table and sat her down in my lap, scanning the crowd and knowing that fae all around the room were still watching us. I reached for my own goblet, and wished I could forget, too.

"Dance, Feyre," I said, as she started to slump in my lap. That would not do.

She stood unsteadily to her feet, right between my knees, and swayed to the music. Lifted her arms, trailed her hands down the sides of her breasts, and closed her gold-lidded eyes as she moved.

In any other setting, she might have been exquisite.

Here, she was hollow. She wasn't in her body, there was just a dress and some paint. And I wondered if she would ever forgive me for this. I doubted it.

A High fae came up to us, stood behind Feyre and started to dance with her. Feyre turned to him, reached for him. I grabbed her arms, and smoothed them back down to her sides.

"Mine," I growled at the fae, and his eyes narrowed, but he backed away. Cauldron. This was going to be my entire evening.

I let her dance until she started to flag, and then I set her carefully back in my lap. Couldn't let her sit anywhere else, couldn't let her out of my sight. Not like this. Not in this state.

And then when she started to droop again, I got her up to dance. Up down, dance, sit. Up again. A whole fucking routine that made me want to blow my brains out. The only upside was that Tamlin kept his eyes on us the whole time, and hated every moment. And yet still, he didn't move from his throne. Delightful.

When finally the night started down and everyone was disappearing to either their own beds or someone else's, I led Feyre back to her cell. Let her collapse on the pallet and sleep off the wine. By the time I got back to my own room, the self-loathing was enough to choke on.

But Feyre had made it through the night alive.

And if this is what it took to get her through to the second task, then I could keep doing it. After all. What was a handful of nights are fifty years Under the Mountain?

****

Agh I really don't know if this is worth anything, but I hope you get something out of it dearest, and if you don't you can always send me a different scene and I'll try again if I can x

[folderolsfollies]

Sangyao Arranged Marriage.... III

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Word Count: 2.7k  Rating: T Warnings: None to date (Besides discussion of canon events)

Nie Huaisang idly notes that it had taken three servants blanching and running through the halls of the Jinlintai at the sight of him freely wandering through its gilded passageways before he’s caught. He tears his gaze away from a beautiful and entirely inaccurate mural commemorating Jin victories during the Sunshot campaign. There’s Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun in front of him, pieced out in larger-than-life gold. Jin Guangyao, the hero of the Sunshot campaign, is absent from the scene.

He fully turns when he recognizes a quiet but unmistakable pair of footsteps. Jin Guangyao, alone, moves with a leopard’s prowling grace.

“San-ge, thank god you’re here! I got so lost…” he lies hurriedly before Jin Guangyao can say anything, clasping onto his arm. This close, the warm, spicy smell of cloves curls towards him. “Oh! You smell nice,” he says, entranced into losing his train of thought, and leans forward, to where the scent is deepened by the heat radiating out from Jin Guangyao’s jugular. “Have you remembered my trick with the incense?” he says, remembering frozen nights in Qinghe carefully draping his long sleeves over the incense burners. At the time, Meng Yao had kept his sleeves sensibly bound to the wrist, but Nie Huaisang had noticed the hungry way that he had stilled to watch all these invisible tricks of the gentry from out of the corner of his eyes, even back then. It had been the first time anybody had wanted to imitate Nie Huaisang. It had been the first time Nie Huaisang had felt the urge to impress someone, stirring new and strange within him.

“I will always remember your kindnesses, Nie Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao replies in the present, polite to a fault, and admirably suppressing his clear desire to ask what exactly Nie Huaisang is doing in Koi Tower. His San-ge, always so thoughtful! “The Jinlintai welcomes you.”

Nie Huaisang finally remembers his twice-stated promise, and, releasing his arm, darts backwards from him like a startled fawn.

“Jin-er-gongzi, thank you for the hospitality,” he says formally, and bows as deeply and as properly as any Lan.

Strong hands catch him from beneath the elbows before the arc of his bow is complete, and he’s hauled back into a standing position. They stand there for a long moment, with Jin Guangyao’s hands wrapped tight around his forearms, and Nie Huaisang’s hands gently draped on his arms. For a moment, Jin Guangyao’s face is startled into openness, as he looks at Huaisang with his large deer-soft eyes, and Huaisang looks back at him.

There’s a lock of Nie Huaisang’s hair, braided for the dust of summer travel, curling around Jin Guangyao’s sleeve and tickling his wrist. Jin Guangyao swiftly tucks it behind Nie Huaisang’s ear, his thin, cold thumb briefly brushing over Huaisang’s cheekbone. His fingers flex against Nie Huaisang’s scalp, briefly, before he releases him, and Huaisang beats down the brief impulse to envelop those cold hands in his own warm ones.

“Let’s go to my office,” Jin Guangyao finally says, and smiles, a small, reflexive thing.

The room Jin Guangyao brings them to is bright and well appointed, and utterly impersonal. There are no decorations. It is the office of a bureaucrat. It is the office of someone who can leave it at any time. Nie Huaisang, kneeling across from Jin Guangyao at his plain desk, feels suddenly desolate at the idea of bright Jin Guangyao entombed in this dingy room. Even in Qinghe, stark as it was, Meng Yao’s office had a few scattered effects, even if it was mostly scraps given by Nie Huaisang. Huaisang wants to give him something beautiful, something that would chisel him into the very walls.

He’s been silent too long. “San-ge, if I get you a fan, would you hang it there?” Nie Huaisang says, pointing randomly at an alcove in the corner. He’s sure to make the words sound artless, casual. Nie Huaisang knows enough to spare Jin Guangyao the sensation of pity.

It must work well enough, because Jin Guangyao says indulgently, “Of course, Huaisang.”

“Don’t just agree with me! What if it’s awful?” Nie Huaisang says.

“I doubt you would ever choose anything that was not in exquisite taste,” Jin Guangyao demurs.

For some reason, at that, Nie Huaisang flops on his elbows and sighs heavily. He thinks he sees Jin Guangyao’s lips twitch up briefly from the corner of his eyes, but when he darts a glance up at him his face is smoothed into placidity once more.

A servant comes in, bearing a tray laden with the dainty little walnut cakes Nie Huaisang favors, placing them on the table to Jin Guangyao’s polite murmur of thanks.

When she leaves, Nie Huaisang leans in, hiding them both under his fan. “Ah, San-ge, what was her name?” he asks.

“Tang Zhu,” Jin Guangyao says in response, and doesn’t ask why Nie Huaisang was curious, sparing Nie Huaisang from having to answer that he simply wanted to see how quickly he would answer, plucking facts out of his well-ordered brain. Sometimes Nie Huaisang’s thoughts spin out from him, wild and untethered and frightening; at those times, Jin Guangyao’s straight-pathed mind settles something deep within him.

When Meng Yao had first entered the Unclean Realm, there had been a long stretch of months when Nie Huaisang had been anxious and sulky about this new addition to Qinghe’s roster, the slight figure at his brother’s right side who carried no saber and who had nevertheless earned such a large portion of his brother’s respect. It had lasted until the day Huaisang had trailed him silently through the secret passageways of the realm to see him pinching off crumbs of bread for one of the stray cats that jostled around the gates. He had felt an affection tinged with the bloody edge of loneliness. He’s like me, he had thought. He could be like me.

He had looked at him then. Jin Guangyao, only two years older than Huaisang, had seemed to have a steady presence that burned brightly within him, outshining any golden core. And Nie Huaisang never really stopped looking at him.

He spreads his fan in front of his face. He has a sudden hope that Meng Yao remembers how they’d use his fan as a silent method of communication with each other back in Qinghe, the way a brisk tap meant rescue me, a shift from hand to hand meaning, watch out! Da-ge coming. When he twists his wrist he thinks with each flutter: trust me, trust me, trust me. “Jin-er-gongzi, how are you settling in?”

Jin Guangyao looks trapped between exasperation and banked amusement, and Nie Huaisang feels such a rush of nostalgic affection that it makes his teeth hurt. “It would be best if you do not refer to me as such in Koi Tower,” he says instead of replying, lightly scolding. “Our positions are dissimilar.”

Nie Huaisang tilts his head unhappily, but smiles to cover it. “Then you’ll be my San-ge. What would you like to do while I’m in here distracting you?”

“I’d like to do my work , Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says, pointedly, picking up a sheaf of papers on the table.

It gives him pause. In Qinghe, Meng Yao was as familiar to him as the downbeat of his own heart; Jin Guangyao in his Lanling gold has new expressions he doesn’t know how to read. Has he been presuming too much on a friendship grown stale through time? He doesn’t know. He has to know.

“Then forgive me for encroaching on your time, San-ge,” he says, penitently. He may have pulled the words from a drama. “I can see myself out.” He stirs to leave.

“Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says, and stops. Hope blooms in Nie Huaisang’s chest like a rose, flowered but barbed. Jin Guangyao’s lies are quick and fluent, easy to surface. Deliberation means he’s close to the truth. His smile is a little sad at the edges. “I can spare some time,” is what he settles on. “What brings you to Lanling?”

“Mostly, just avoiding Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang says, shamelessly. He feels giddy, pricked all over with excitement at the familiar cadence of the conversation.  “He’s been after me to keep to a training schedule.”

“He only worries for you, you know that,” Jin Guangyao says patiently.

“Ah, I know, I know that,” Nie Huaisang says, “but this is peacetime! Surely the point of the war was to actually enjoy the rewards of peace.”

“Sometimes leadership demands sacrifice, even if it is peacetime, Huaisang,” says Jin Guangyao, offhandedly. Nie Huaisang puts his fan on the table.

Are you happy? He thinks. But then again, when he knew him best, Jin Guangyao was many things, and happy wasn’t necessarily one of them. When he thinks that he feels such a melting tenderness towards his old friend he has to hold his own hands.

“You always work very hard,” Nie Huaisang agrees. “But San-ge, shouldn’t you enjoy some of the rewards of peace too?”

“Nie Huaisang, you are not subtle,” Jin Guangyao chides, but his smile has turned more fond.

Caught out, Nie Huaisang grins back at him. “I’ve badgered Da-ge into finally letting me host a yaji for the next full moon, you should come, if you can make the time.”

“If I can make the time,” Jin Guangyao echoes neutrally.

“San-ge,” Nie Huaisang, pouting, “I’ll even sweeten the pot; should I invite someone for you?” Jin Guangyao will suggest Lan Xichen, who will be a good buffer between Da-ge and San-ge; he waits for confirmation.

Jin Guangyao looks down at his papers. “It would be a good opportunity to strengthen your relationship with some of the tributary sects. Some of the smaller sects produce fine artisans, like Laoling or Dingtao,” he says, neutrally.

Nie Huaisang tosses his hair back in exasperation. Jin Guangyao looks up again, tracing the arc of its movement. “You know that’s not what I meant, San-ge - wait, since when does Laoling produce artisans?” Laoling, a minor city kissing Lanling’s borders, produces golden maize in the summer, sticky purple jujubes in winter; it does not, to Nie Huaisang’s knowledge, produce any scholars of the Great Arts. Jin Guangyao’s smile freezes; Nie Huaisang feels triumphant. “You’ve been holding out on me, San-ge! Who’s in Laoling?”

Jin Guangyao ducks his head, affecting a modesty Nie Huaisang is sure is feigned: “Lord Qin’s eldest daughter. Now that my brother’s engagement is secure, it’s time to start thinking about my own marital duties.”

“You wish to marry... Qin Su?” Nie Huaisang asks, astonished. Qin Su is sweet, Qin Su is pretty, in a delicate fashion, and Qin Su has a winsome manner that would, Nie Huaisang imagines, make a person who cares for such things want to sweep her up in their arms. Nie Huaisang would rather be swept up, but he is not blind to the appeal.

“She is a generous and loving woman, and she would make anyone a fine wife.” says Jin Guangyao, and there is an admonishment cloaked in his even tone. There’s Jin Guangyao’s protective streak again, and it sends warmth into Nie Huaisang’s chest even as it feels odd, to hear it directed on the behalf of someone else.

“No, I know that,” says Nie Huaisang, so blankly that it seems to mollify Jin Guangyao. “But I had thought… Zewu-Jun…” he trails off, suddenly aware that he is shown more of his hand than he had planned, but helpless against the rush of curiosity. Zewu-Jun is the top cultivator of the cultivation world, the pride of Gusu Lan. Nie Huaisang could never possibly strive to his heights - it exhausts him thinking of trying.

That would be the caliber of a suitor that he would find for Jin Guangyao. That was the caliber of a suitor he had thought he had found for Jin Guangyao.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes glint, and for a second Nie Huaisang is pinned under a piercing gaze. Jin Guangyao has not looked at him like that for a long time, and there is a small, hungry part of Nie Huaisang that would take the anger, if it means having the honesty. “You should be careful about what you think, and who you tell your thoughts to,” Jin Guangyao says. There you are, Nie Huaisang thinks.

Nie Huaisang makes his mouth twist. “Ah, I’ve upset you,” he says mournfully, “I only want you to be happy.” Jin Guangyao doesn’t smile, precisely, but his gaze softens slightly.

“I’m sure you do,” he says.

But something within Nie Huaisang thrums like a badly plucked qin. So that’s the type he likes, he thinks, without knowing why. Agitated, he taps blindly at his wrist with his fan. It’s then when he realizes that to many, a betrothal to Jin Guangyao would be seen as an insult. It feels like a betrayal to remember, but a greater betrayal to have forgotten.

(Once, Da-ge and him had overheard a chef say “What a pretty child the young master is, too bad about the mother.” Da-ge had her thrown out the next day.)

“I’ll set aside your usual room, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says, in lieu of asking how long Nie Huaisang is planning on staying, which is rather deft of him. Nie Huaisang squirrels the phrasing away for safekeeping and raises his hands placatingly.

“Ah, no need, no need, San-ge, I just stopped by to say hello before proceeding to Lanling! Between the two of us, it’s a little difficult going shopping in Qinghe, everybody knows Da-ge there,” he says, knowing that his face is steadily turning more flushed and batting cool air at his face with his fan.

Jin Guangyao’s face is as smooth and impassive as a creamy block of white jade. “And what would Nie-er-gongzi need in Lanling that you wouldn’t want your brother to know that you’re buying?” He tilts his head, smiling as serenely as ever.

Nie Huaisang squirms and points at him with his fan accusingly. “Ah, you’re teasing me! That’s so unfair, nobody would ever believe me if I tell them that you have a sense of humor.” He wrinkles his nose against the laughter that threatens to bubble out of him. Decorum, Huaisang.

Jin Guangyao raises his eyebrows. The dimples deepen. “And who would you plan on telling?”

Nie Huaisang grins back at him. “You know I can’t tell anyone, you’re the only person I can actually gossip with.”

“I don’t indulge in gossip, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says primly, which is an obvious lie, and has been since the day Nie Huaisang had first met him. “It’s frivolous, and detrimental to the spirit.”

“But San-ge, I’m very frivolous,” Nie Huaisang points out. “Spare a thought for us lost causes.”

“You’re not a lost cause,” Jin Guangyao says, and for a moment he looks almost angry, the raw emotion rippling across his features the way a shark fin breaches water. He calms, and smiles placatingly. “You’ve been raised to this, you and your brother both.”

Jin Guangyao lies. Huaisang knows this. But sometimes, he lies to craft the world into a better shape than it is.

Nie Huaisang smiles at him. “I’ll invite the Qin family at the end of the month; I want to help you.”

He watches Jin Guangyao come to a decision. “You’d be putting me in your debt,” he says, as if doubtful.

Nie Huaisang thrills. “No debts between us, San-ge, we’re brothers!” he says, full of innocence, and watches Jin Guangyao relax in increments - softening his brow, the corners of his eyes, the rigid line of his shoulders entombed in layers and layers of fine silk. That’s never been true, but what would the thoughtless Second Young Master know about obligation? The trick with trapping a wild animal is that you can’t let them know that you see them, or it gives the whole game away.

“I have to go now, there’s only so much time before Da-ge figures out I’m not actually at Lotus Pier,” Nie Huaisang explains, with a trace of regret. He places a hand on Jin Guangyao’s slim wrist as he moves to leave, silk and skin nearly indistinguishable to the touch. “But it was good to see you again, Yao-ge.”

Jin Guangyao blinks slowly down at the hand at his wrist, and then upwards at him. “The pleasure was mine entirely, Huaisang.”

[apocalypsky]

Darcy by @sky-dumby-seer

Arkaya and Astral by @amarald-sky

Pomari and Pipi by @ari-0kay

Hennessy by @lunathenut

Eli by a friend, SA

The cards flicked on the table the Darcy was sitting at. They'd set up two tables in a safer area to play cards and discuss what had happened. Quietly, they started dealing them, everyone murmuring among themselves for ideas and bets, both for the game and what had happened to sky.

Once the cards were all dealt, everyone picked up and looked at them. Darcy flicked a chip for 100 candles into the middle of the tables.

"So... what questions do you guys have?"

"Are you bluffing?" Pipi seemed impressed with their confidence, but she also has never seen Darcy play cards like the others had.

"Not those kinds of questions. Gimme something to properly answer."

"I'll take that as not bluffing," Pipi looked down at her cards in a slight panic, moving to shuffle them around a bit. Arkaya looked up at Darcy as he threw his own chip in.

"What the hell happened on the Battlefield? Krill, more than usual, came out of the ground, and before we were even close to the temple."

"Well, that's exactly what happened," Darcy looked up, waving a hand slightly as a dismissal.

Pomari set her cards down for a moment, What I think he means is what happened to cause it?

"Well, obviously, Eden's spread."

"It what?!" Hennessy was flabbergasted, as one would be. This had never happened before, not for as long as she can remember.

"It's happened before, trust me, but never this badly."

"Before?!" Pipi slammed her cards down. "When has it happened before?!"

"Well, it happened to turn that battlefield into a battlefield. What else would've happened on it?"

"How much havoc did it wreak then?" Eli's voice was calm compared to the others as he threw in a small chip, not betting much. Currently, there were two piles. One for ideas about what happened and one for the game.

"Quite a lot at first, almost made me lose an arm, could've easily lost my head, though I didn't."

"Obviously, but what about the other r- wait, you were alive centuries ago?! And you fought in the battle of Sky?!" Arkaya seemed both impressed and scared. No wonder Darcy was so good at bluffing.

"Yes, I was, but that doesn't matter. Right now, it matters that all of the realms are in danger. Wasteland was taken, and we saved the others before. If we don't act, we won't be able to save them this time."

"So... what do we do?" Pipi tilted her head curiously. "What can we do to stop it?"

"Well, we need to get into the eye, the heart, of Eden."

"And what would we do once we get there?" Eli leaned back in his chair, not wanting Astral, who had remained silent and was trying to cheat, to see his cards.

"You've never been to the eye, have you?"

Astral growled a bit at Eli, though turned to Darcy, "Nope. Never even realized you could get in there."

"Mm. Well, it's a long process, but you can."

Wait, wait, wait. You have?!

"Where do you think the darkness came from, Pomari. Where do you think I came from"

"That's a good point," Hennessy finally threw her chip in. "But how do we get there?"

"Technically, the best way to get there would be for me to go alone. Unfortunately, I don't have the right equipment or ability to make that equipment myself."

Arkaya raised an eyebrow as he set his cards upright to fold, "But you've created that sword. Why couldn't you just, like, create a shield?"

"Because a shield would require more of the good in me and I only have so much."

Pipi sighed, folding too, "So then how do we get you that equipment?"

"I guess we just can't. Not until we find a better solution unless there is none at all."

Astral slammed a chip down, higher than Darcy's, "And what will happen when you get there?"

"Naturally, I'll give my soul and break what holds Eden's light."

Arkaya immediately looked upset, "So you'll die?!"

"Oh, doesn't everyone."

"Darcy you can't just dismiss it that easily! You're probably going to die and you pretty much say 'eh'?!"

"Well excuse me for knowing where my place in this world is."

"Excuse you?! Darcy you're going to die! We can't just let it happen!"

"But it would have to. It's the only way to completely fix everything."

Arkaya stood, slamming his hands on the table, "But you'll leave us! You'll-" he relaxed slightly, looking down at the table. "You'll leave me..."

"I know, Arkaya. But we all have a role. This is mine. Besides, you can always see me in your dreams."

Arkaya just sighed as he sat down again, seeming frustrated and sad. Darcy just looked down at their cards again, "I assume there are no other questions."

Everyone just kind of murmured agreements before pretty much everyone folded, including Darcy. They hadn't been bluffing.

~

Darcy was working on refortifying the place they all lived, wanting to make sure a krill wouldn't slam in and destroy it all. Everyone, except Arkaya, was sitting and talking inside, where Darcy couldn't hear them. Arkaya was laying down, not feeling like talking.

"We need to keep Darcy from trying to go for the eye. We can't let them die, they've been through too much for it to just happen," Hennessy obviously seemed worried.

But how do we do that? We can't just tell them 'Hey, stay here with us and don't die'.

"I know, that's the problem. Does anyone have any ideas?"

"Well... maybe they'll stay if Arkaya is sad enough?" Pipi tried.

"Ya, but I don't want my brother to be sad either way. There has to be something."

"Are resurrections a way? Like, they could save everyone, and then we could bring them back?"

"I doubt that. Not even someone good with magic could. Besides, sky kids dust when they die. There's no way we're finding their-"

Hennessy what interrupted by a loud growl from outside. Darcy had been flying around, so they were low on recharge, but they were trying to lead the krill that saw them away from their little shamble house. Immediately, Astral dragged Hennessy and they got into position.

Astral took a knee, setting her hands on it, and Hennessy stepped into her hands. Quickly, Astral stood and pushed Hennessy up with her hands, sending her up as high as she could. Hennessy landed on the krill, distracting it as Pomari quickly dragged Darcy away from where the krill was looking.

Hennessy quickly drove the krill into the ground, pretty much knocking it out, before they got Darcy inside.

"Alright, you're sitting and you're staying. You're too reckless, Darcy. Why are you always getting in situations like that?"

"Because my job is to defend. I can't do that if I'm a coward."

"Is that really the reason or are you making excuses?"

"Perhaps."

"If you keep hiding things like this, Arkaya isn't gonna trust you to trust him."

"Have you ever felt true fear?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever felt true fear, either for yourself or someone else?"

"Yes, I have..."

"I have too. Many more than one time. And trust, I've had it shattered before. My fear isn't that I'm weak. It's that you guys won't be able to defend yourselves all the time," they stood, moving toward the door to continue the fortifications. "Come to me when you're no longer talking about how easy trust is to break."

~

Darcy was standing in the kitchen, getting a drink of water, when it happened. Arakaya was hugging them while they stood there, essentially koala beared to their chest. It was less out of fear of them dying and more because he didn't want them to leave right now. Not when he knew where they could go and what would happen. Though he did look up a bit when he felt Darcy start to breathe a bit heavier, despite them trying to keep it even.

He heard the glass they were holding hit the counter, a bit hard, just before pieces of it could be heard falling off.

"Darcy...?"

Shakily, they unwrapped Arkaya's arms from around them before taking a couple steps back. They seemed scared. Something was wrong since their steps seemed unsure and they slowly reached for their sword. Though they didn't unsheath it, just slowly sunk down to the ground.

"S-Stay right th-there... p-please..."

They almost never studdered. Something was definitely wrong.

"Darcy... Darcy, what's happening...? Are you seeing something...?"

"K-Kind of... I j-just... don't w-wanna h-hurt you..."

"You won't, I know you won't... can I at least sit down...?"

They nodded slightly, still trying to keep their breathing even, as Arkaya slowly sat, making sure Darcy knew he was only sitting. And so he sat and waited, trying his best to help Darcy calm down.

~

Previous

Next

[singledarkshade]

New Old Friend

Part Six

(Part One,  Part Two, Part Three , Part Four and Part Five can be found here)

“So, let me get this straight,” Jack said as he sat at his desk, they’d moved back to the Sheriff’s station after dinner to talk in private, “If you don’t touch this shard, you stay in this universe.”

Rip nodded.

“However,” Henry noted, “From the readings I took back in NASA, the shard remaining here for too long would not be good. The energy from the shard doesn’t match the energy for this universe, and we’ve seen before that this is not something that will end well.”

“How long is too long?” Jack demanded concerned.

“Well, I was in one place for about a week with no ill-effects that I noticed,” Rip noted.

“That’s good to know,” Jack mused, “So, we need to infiltrate Section 5 so Rip can touch the shard to send him on his way. Is that right?”

Rip and Henry nodded in unison.

Jack shook his head, “Is there a plan for how we do this?”

“That is easy, Sheriff,” Gideon spoke up from inside the cell she’d been wandering around studying, “I can access the systems within Global Dynamics. I can therefore get access to the restricted section easily.”

Rip smiled at her, before turning back to Jack.

“I’m meant to be the law in Eureka,” he reminded them, “I’m not supposed to break into places. Or allow it to happen.”

“Technically the shard belongs to Rip,” Henry noted, “So it isn’t so much a break in, more a retrieval.”

“That is quite a technicality,” Jack laughed, before he sighed, “The problem is that’s not a technicality the law will agree with if we’re caught.”

“We don’t expect you to take the risk, Jack,” Henry told him.

“And I don’t want you to either, Henry,” Rip interrupted, “With Gideon and if you let me borrow your car then I can access Global Dynamics myself. I already have a few possible ways in from our original visit.”

Jack glanced at Henry, “Is he kidding?”

“Captain Hunter is a master of getting in and out of places he shouldn’t be,” Gideon spoke up.

Jack groaned, “Fine. I have no knowledge of this.”

“No knowledge of what?”

The voice coming from the door made them all spin to where Jo stood looking at them suspiciously.

Rip watched the woman in the same uniform Jack wore, marking her as another part of the law enforcement in Eureka.

“Not important, Jo,” Jack told her.

“Why are you here anyway? I thought you finished a few hours ago?” she demanded as she headed to the second desk, spotting Gideon in the cell she asked, “Have you done the paperwork or were you waiting for me?”

“I am not under arrest, Deputy Lupo,” Gideon stated as she walked through the bars and out the cell making the other woman jump.

“Gideon,” Rip chided softly, “The door was open.”

Jo rolled her eyes, “Should I ask?”

“Jo Lupo,” Jack grinned, “This is Dr Rip Hunter and his AI companion, Gideon.”

“Okay,” Jo nodded understanding, she’d clearly been a part of this town for some time, “Nice to meet you, Dr Hunter, Gideon.”

Gideon smiled, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Deputy. Your record is very impressive.”

“Gideon,” Rip sighed, “Please stop looking into things you’re not supposed to. We’re guests here.”

Rolling her eyes, Gideon replied, “If I don’t look then I would not get to know about the interesting people who live here.”

Before Rip could retort the phone began to ring.

“I’ll get it,” Jo said, “Considering I’m the one who’s working.”

Gideon moved to Rip’s side and murmured softly, “People tracing you is no longer the problem, Captain.”

“It’s Alison,” Jo turned to them, “Looking for Henry.”

Surprise covered Henry’s face, “Me?” Taking the phone, he listened for a second before nodding, “We’re on our way, Alison.” Hanging up the phone, he sighed, “They tried to test the shard’s power. It’s not going well.”

Jack bounced up and grabbed his keys, “I’ll drive.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” Jo called as they left, adding before they were out of door, “Or if I need to evacuate the town.”

                                 *********************************************

 “I thought you said you were just testing,” Alison yelled over the blaring alarms as she ran into the lab.

“I was,” Nathan replied, “It activated itself somehow.” He grimaced as he continued to try to shut down the energy source they’d found, “The energy is looping and feeding itself. I can’t stop it.”

Alison grimaced, “I’ve called Henry.”

“I don’t know if he’ll be able to help,” Nathan told her, staring as a small point of light began to form at the other side of the lab.

“What is that, Nathan?” Alison demanded fearfully.

“That,” came the clipped voice of Dr Hunter, “Is a time portal beginning to form.”

Alison and Nathan turned to see him enter with Henry and Jack along with Hunter’s AI Gideon.

“It’s a what?” Nathan demanded incredulously.

“A time portal,” Rip stated again, before adding, “Unfortunately as it’s not been controlled there is no way to tell where in time it will open to.”

Nathan frowned, “You’re talking about time travel.”

Rip nodded, “Precisely.”

“That’s impossible,” Nathan scoffed, “Time travel is science fiction. And what would an Artificial Intelligence specialist know about the physics of time travel?”

“A great deal more than you do,” Rip replied absently.

Nathan glared at the other man, “I doubt that. My specialist fields are astrophysics and quantum mechanics which I am one of the world’s leading authorities on.”

Rip turned to him and noted, “Yet this is still out of the realms of your knowledge.”

“The energy levels are growing,” Henry called from the controls stopping Nathan from retorting, “Would it stop if you touched it?”

“Gideon?” Rip asked.

Alison frowned confused as the AI shook her head, “Unfortunately that would not work, Captain. The portal has already begun to form, removing the shard would not stop this. We need to drain the energy.”

Rip sighed as he looked around thoughtfully.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Jack demanded suddenly, “Since that’s what usually happens.”

Shrugging Rip replied, “The portal opens to before or after the earth exists and the entire world gets sucked into the vacuum of space.”

“You just know the way our luck runs there’s no point asking what the best scenario is,” Jack noted to Henry who nodded.

“Gideon,” Rip called as he checked the readings, “The electrical systems Dr Fargo upgraded. Would they be able to accept the charge?”

She tilted her head for a moment before replying, “It would but they would need to be modified properly in order to dissipate the energy safely.”

Rip nodded, “Henry?”

“We’re on our way,” Henry nodded,

Jack pulled out his keys, “I’m driving.”

“Nathan, come with us,” Henry ordered as he started out grabbing Jack’s arm, “Gideon, send me the details of how to do this to my PDA.”

“Yes, Dr Deacon,” Gideon replied as the two men ran out.

 Rip swore under his breath as the small portal continued to grow.

“What can I do to help?” Alison asked.

“Keep an eye on the power output,” Rip told her, motioning her to the back console.

She nodded and turned her attention to the readouts.

“Gideon,” Rip turned frowning at the annoyed expression on her face, “What’s wrong?”

“The energy being released is beginning interfere with our connection, Captain,” Gideon told him, “I am losing the signal to you.”

Rip sighed, knowing to keep their connection she was diverting energy from other systems on the Waverider to their link, “Go. I’ll be fine.”

Her hand came up to touch the air by his cheek, “Take care, Rip. I will be back as soon as I can.”

As she disappeared, Rip took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Rip,” Henry’s voice came suddenly, “We’re here.”

“It’s a good thing Jack is the law considering how fast he must have been going,” Rip noted, before asking, “Do you have the information you need?”

“We’re already working on it,” Henry told him, “We should be ready to start the transfer in three minutes.”

“Dr Hunter,” Alison called, “The energy is increasing exponentially.”

“Bollocks,” Rip snapped, before calling, “Henry, we’re running out of time. The portal is going to be viable in the next fifty seconds if we don’t start the energy transfer.”

“We’re almost there,” Henry replied.

Frowning Rip caught Alison’s arm, “You need to leave this room now.”

“What?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Rip told her, “I need to be here to activate the transfer but there’s no reason for you to be in here as well.”

Concern flitted across her face before she nodded, “I’ll be listening in.”

“Lock the door,” Rip said, “It’ll give a little bit more protection for evacuating the building if this doesn’t work.”

She nodded again before leaving him alone. Rip knew he could touch the shard and leave here but Henry was his friend and Jack was becoming one as well. He wasn’t going to leave them to deal with this.

“Henry?” he called, “Tell me you’re ready.”

“Rip,” Jack replied instead, “We’re ready. Start the transfer.”

Hitting the button, Rip watched the energy levels and hoped this worked. He trusted that Henry knew what he was doing, considering the interface he’d created.

“Is it working?” Henry called.

Rip continued to watch the levels and finally, to his relief, it began to go down, “It’s working.”

Turning he watched the portal slowly get smaller before it disappeared into nothing. Checking the information Rip sighed in relief to see that it had closed completely. Opening the lab door, he found Alison standing there.

“It’s gone,” he told her.

Alison nodded, “That’s wonderful news. Now you can explain how you knew exactly what to do.”

                                 *********************************************

 Henry was relieved to find Rip sitting in Alison’s office with no security surrounding him.

“We disconnected all the equipment and locked the lab down,” Henry reported to Alison as they filed in, “Is everything okay here?”

Alison nodded with a blithe smile, “Dr Hunter and I were just discussing that.”

He winced slightly but seeing Rip was looking relaxed knew that it wasn’t too bad.

“What about the energy source?” Nathan demanded.

Alison glanced at Rip before she replied, “I have locked the lab down for the moment and Dr Hunter has confirmed that it is safe now but best to keep it secure.”

Nathan frowned but nodded in agreement, “I have some other projects that need to be checked on.”

With that said he left, and Henry sighed in relief.

“So,” Alison spoke up once Nathan was gone, “Time travel and alternate dimensions. You have some interesting friends, Henry.”

Not sure what to say, Henry shrugged.

“Rip,” she smiled at him, “I will give you access to the lab at noon tomorrow. That should give you time to make your goodbyes.”

Rip shook her hand, “Thank you, Dr Blake.” He glanced at the picture on her desk and added, “After today I suggest you go home yourself and be with your son,” sadness covered his face for a moment as he breathed, “It’s the best thing in the world to spend time with your child and should never miss any chance you have.”

Henry caught Jack’s eye, but the moment passed quickly, and Rip turned to him once more.

“I don’t know about anyone else,” he said, “But after that I need a drink.”

Henry said, “Sounds like an idea. Café Diem doubles as a good evening spot.”

Nodding Rip told them, “Well let’s go before Gideon returns and yells at me.”

[dweetwise]

day 8: abandoned

prompt from: whumptober pairing: felix x ace notes: just pure angst. i’m sorry ;w; warnings: alcoholism, implied depression, implied child neglect word count: 1180

Escaping the Entity should have meant they’d finally be happy.

And they were, at the start. Felix remembers the relief of being free from the oppressive fog, the smile on Ace’s face when they saw the sun for the first time in years, and the happiness in his chest when Ace agreed to come with him to Germany.

It didn’t take long for things to go wrong.

Felix tried his best to go back to living a normal life, but it proved too much for him. The deathmatches of the realm had been easy to understand, one-dimensional choices where the wrong one meant near-instant death.

After that, how was he supposed to navigate the intricacies of human society? He’d promised himself he would start his life anew, dropping his fake persona to pursue his genuine passions in life, but it was so much more convenient to slip right back into a familiar suit and mingle with old connections.

He did his best to ignore the pangs of guilt when meetings and formal dinners ran long, especially when his daughter was visiting. Ace brought it up, saying the girl was more familiar with her nanny than her own father, and Felix assured him it was “just until this project is over”.

He was lying, and they both knew it.

To his credit, Ace withstood his lies and bullshit excuses for an entire year.

Felix wasn’t surprised when he eventually exploded. Harsh words were freely flowing out, claiming he never wanted this life, being stuck in a country he barely knew the language of and withering away in an empty mansion. That he never wanted to have kids but was willing to give it a shot because he loved Felix, but he wasn’t about to put in effort where there was none to be had in return.

“We didn’t survive years of torture for this!” Ace insisted, and looking at his distressed face Felix realized he couldn’t remember when he’d last seen him smile. “This isn’t me, and I know it’s not you, either.”

Felix wanted to believe him, and in a moment of clarity, dropped his expensive suitcase with its expensive contents to the marble floor and pulled Ace into his arms, promising he’d find a way to make it better.

And then he did the worst thing he could have possibly done.

After a week of absolutely nothing changing, he’d chosen the lazy way out and bought a ten thousand euro watch to hopefully calm his partner down and maybe even get him to smile.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen Ace look as offended as when he presented the gift to him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” his boyfriend spat.

“It’s the newest—”

“I don’t care!” Ace yelled, animatedly gesturing with his hands as if trying to explain to a complete idiot. “I want you, not the shit you can give me!”

And then, Felix said the worst thing he could have possibly responded with.

“Don’t pretend like my background isn’t why you chose to come with me.”

The look of pure hurt flashing across Ace’s features let him know just how much he’d fucked up.

“After all this time, that’s how you see me,” his lover said quietly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When Felix didn’t respond, not knowing how to respond, Ace walked away.

And when Felix woke up the next day, all traces of Ace were gone, only the cold emptiness of the family estate to keep him company.

That’s when he hit the bottle.

He doesn’t remember how many days he spent locked up in his study, drinking his father’s collection of rare whiskeys like it was cheap wine, bottle upon bottle to dull out the pain of losing one of the few things that were real in his miserable life of lies.

The maids and nannies came by, and he remembers his daughter’s laughter gradually turning to a worried whimper as the nanny carried her away and told her to “let daddy work”, closing the study door and leaving Felix to wallow in his misery.

And then there was the lawsuit, his ex wanting to get full custody after his daughter told her “papa just drinks juice and acts like a zombie”. Felix hired the best lawyer money could buy and used the opportunity of his daughter not being around for the duration of the case to get even more drunk than before.

He didn’t show up to court and was appalled when his butler informed him that he’d lost the case, because his lawyer had just called for the fourteenth time and “sir, you should really answer your phone and mail”.

He’d had his phone turned off for at least a month at this point, and his email hadn’t been opened in weeks. Felix managed to sit down and glance at his overflowing inbox for a whole minute before feeling like he was going to throw up, angry red exclamation marks and even angrier clients demanding his attention.

He’d slammed the laptop shut and went to sleep off his hangover.

It wasn’t long until Lauren, his business partner, showed up on his doorstep and announced she was buying him out of the company. She was looking even more stressed than usual, dark circles under her eyes from no doubt having to cover for Felix’s work after he dropped off the radar.

She never did spare anyone’s feelings and he always admired that about her, calling him out as the useless piece of shit he knew that he was. But when her expression softened and she urged him to seek help, Felix wished her a good day before slamming the door in her face.

Now left with nothing but the empty mansion that has never felt like a home and a family name that meant nothing, Felix couldn’t help the feeling of rightness spreading through him. He’d always known he was a fraud, a failure of a human being that didn’t deserve any of his success or popularity, and now it was finally proven to him.

He’d been a shitty boyfriend, a lousy father, and a failure of an architect. No wonder everyone had abandoned him.

In a moment of weakness, he sat himself on his daughter’s untouched bed and held his phone in his hand, staring at Ace’s contact. Maybe he could still make it right; now he didn’t have anything to distract him, and wasn’t that was Ace had wanted?

He hovered over the call button, but hesitated. Maybe Ace had changed his number, going back to his old ways of scamming and committing petty crimes, living a meaningless life—

Felix dropped the phone on the floor and buried his face into his hands in disgust, pulling on his own hair in frustration. Even after losing everything he ever cared about to his selfish decisions, his ego still insisted that he was better than everyone else.

And that’s when he decided the best thing he could do for his loved ones was to never contact them again.

[enthrclled]

closed starter for @loialte​

               well ... current events had taken a turn, and not for the better. what they had thought was something they were managing to get   under control   for a bit of peace after half a decade’s worth of utter helplessness, turned out to be worse ... much worse. the fight between the earth realm and thanos had brought the attention of a   species   that left her preferring the threat of thanos. with one defeated, came another directly behind its tracks. perhaps a parting gift from the villain that did not take defeat well. at this point, anything was possible. they had nothing to go on. the beings were incredibly fast, deadly and seemed to be equipped with supersonic hearing. although they couldn’t see, even the slightest sound would bring them   running   from miles and miles away. their invasion had only taken a few mere hours to spread over the globe, sending billions of citizens into a widespread panic. heroes had done their best to fight back but ... they were exhausted from the fight they had   just   managed to break through. 

              weeks, then months, passed by and   little progress   had been made in way of defeating their new adversaries. the world was fading into an apocalyptic nature and people were beginning to turn on each other. while those left within the avengers, trusted agents, had managed to create a bit of a   safe haven.   with thanks to stark, banner and wakanda technologies --- a sound barrier was erected around their compound where people could converge for a safe place. they worked hard to make sure those who came were comfortable and well cared for. although getting word out about the haven was more difficult than anything given they couldn’t exactly put out a broadcast. instead, they allowed word to spread by telling those who wanted to stay near their homes. even against their recommendation. they’d left devices in nearby towns, cities, for people to find and flip a switch that would send a distress call to them. it wasn’t much ... but for now it was the best they could do. 

              natasha stood by steve as a small opening is made within the noise cancelling shield for them to slip out of. while she had a few weapons on her person, they were more for her   comfort   than for actual use. nothing they had seemed to work on the creatures. their bodies made out of some natural guard that made them nearly   impossible   to kill. to be fair, more and more end of the world groups were making themselves known, fighting for dominance, giving her another decent enough reason to carry them on her. these groups thought to   sacrifice   those deemed unworthy to satisfy the aliens that had taken over their earth. just another grievance that natasha didn’t much care for. toss that onto the blatant failure that she felt constantly weighing down on her shoulders. the way people always seemed to stare with their judgmental looks. once again, the avengers had let billions of citizens down instead of saving them and bringing immediate relief with them. even as they worked to fix it, she knew that people were losing their confidence in them. did she even have confidence in herself? she knew that on their team, she wasn’t the only one   prone   to doubts from their failures. 

              turning towards steve she gives his arm a light squeeze to grab his attention,   <<  we have 3 hours of daylight. we have to move quickly. stay on your guard, cap.  >>   steve was very much one of few reasons why she had managed to keep her   sanity   in this world. if not for him, and a bit of convincing, she very much would have gone off on her own, to one of many safe houses in the middle of no where to fend for herself. it had taken everything for her to not shut out the remaining world. failure did not come easy to her and this ... was yet another slap in the face. offering him a small tight lipped smile, natasha begins to head east along a padded path. emerald hues looking around the surrounding forest that they were walking into, checking to make sure nothing had crept too close to their compound. at least all of her stealth training came in handy, her ability to be quieter than a mouse and light on her feet. 

[ziracona]

please bless me with all of your dbd headcanons even just a crumb would satisfy me,,,,, lmao. Fr tho ur hcs are godly pls give me all of them especially for og 4 and wraif

Thank you!! I’m glad you like my hot takes!

Let’s see, og4.

Jake grows facial hair pretty easy (that part is just canon). Usually he either lets it grow and ignores it till it gets long, or stays cleanshaven, but the in-between stage is physically painful for everyone else at the campfire bc you wake up and see rugged 2day scruffy woodsman stretch and he sees you staring and goes, “What?” Looking thoroughly unimpressed and Meg sheds a tear and Claudette pretends to not be looking and stares at her journal and Dwight gets heart palpitations it’s just bad for the whole group. When he shaves he’s an edgy dumbass and does it with a sharpened hunk of metal he made into a knife for himself and Dwight saw him shaving once and had to go sit down.

Jake has a soft spot for many of the survivors he’s known longer (honestly at this point, he’s pretty attached to the lot of them though), but especially the ones who work really hard at protecting other survivors. Double points if you’re younger than him. He would kill for Claudette, and take a bullet meant for Quentin, but would not convey this to them at all. Jake puts almost zero effort into making sure people knows he likes them. The people he has a soft spot for especially are also not always the ones he prefers to spend time with. While they’re survivors he spends less time with personally, Jake respects Feng Min for being the snarky little gremlin she is, and Tapp’s dedication to his job even here. Weirdly, while the people he likes often aren’t aware of affection, the ones he respects but isn’t as close to usually are aware of the respect. Jake also thinks he doesn’t like having friends and spending time not alone, but he does.

If asked point blank his thoughts on a survivor he likes, he’d probably just shrug or say, “They contribute to the team,” or “She works hard,” or “He’s fine,” because Jake just be like that. He had a hard time getting close to anyone initially because of how he grew up. Jake’s very guarded. He’s used to people manipulating and using each other, which makes keeping anything vulnerable close to his chest just necessary as he sees it. Boy doesn’t trust easy. Or open up. Ya need a can opener. Boy also does not like getting pushed around. Least favorite killers (aside from Nightmare) are probably Doctor and Ghostface, because he cannot stand being forced to do things or used. He’d rather take a chainsaw to the back than have someone lord power over him. He’s also got a looong memory, so if you fuck him over, he is not the kind to forget and forgive. He is the kind to resent and remember. Not that he never forgives people, but boy would have to really believe whatever happened was regretted and the person wasn’t like that anymore to let something that made him very angry go. He’s quiet angry though. Bide your time and get vengeance kinda angry. Would never let someone push him around. If a killer tried to fuck with him, he’d do everything in his power to kill them.

While Jake is tough and likes to hike just to be out and moving, and enjoys toughing it out, Meg enjoys being outside more as a fun thing than a wildnerness lifestyle thing. She has a lot of energy, and even in the realm, all that adhd can be a bitch. It would be easy to focus on the shitty stuff happening and drown in that, so she likes to keep moving, like she has since she was a kid and started running. Meg loves hard, and if she cares about you, she’ll make sure you know it. Not good at shutting up or realizing if she’s been going on for too long, girl has passion for everything.

Meg talks a big game, but does not have as much confidence as she pretends to have. She has abandonment issues, but they’re less, ‘my dad abandoned me’ and more ‘everyone but my mom, from him to grade school friends, hasn’t stuck around,’ so she does worry about that and coming on too strong, which she is aware she often does, but she can’t get herself to turn down the power settings on herself even when she tries. She’s never been good at making friends, so all of this in the realm is kinda new to her, since no one can leave. Meg would tell almost no one those things about herself. She cares hard though, and will try to distract other people from realm despair any way she can, because it’s what she needs and she assumes what they must need too. And to be fair, she ain’t wrong. Good at cultivating activities and drinks loving her friends juice.

Big goofball. BIG goofball. Also big gay. Well, bi af, but w a pretty strong preference for the ladies. She is simple of heart. Sees a girl, loses ability to think. Bonded with Nea over this problem. High int, low wisdom, big dumbass. Her weaknesses include girls’ eyes, voices, accents, freckles, scars, stomachs, legs, ass, titties, hair, hair dye, laughs, hands, eye contact, and cute accessories. Not great at expressing her feelings when she catches them, but tries hard. Actually pretty good at romancing once she gets into the groove. It’s just getting there she sucks at. Loyal as hell. Will go to bat for her friends and would rather die than betray them.

Meg has a real temper, especially when she feels like something being done to her or someone else is unjust/unfair, and will always try to fix those things even when it’s hopeless. Can and will weaponize her anger extremely effectively. Ridiculous memory for pop culture, shit memory for homework and things she was supposed to be doing. Memelord, but with some class.

Idk if this is because I identified with Claudette really strongly when I first started playing dbd or not, but I have always seen her as Asexual & Panromantic. Attracted to kindness. 

She gets overwhelmed fairly easily, but has been improving that by necessity since arriving in the realm, and can tap into the mom-friend override to fix problems for people who aren’t her. Has a hard time telling when people are teasing her/joking, but everyone knows this so they take it easier on her than each other.

Like Meg, had no friends before this, so it’s exciting and new, and a little scary, but mostly really good. She worries about other people a lot, and doesn’t always know how to help, but she tries. Very relieved Dwight volunteered to be team leader.

Enjoys recording things and studying. Would be fascinated by the Entity’s world if she wasn’t always being killed. Seems small and weak and easy to take down, but she has the strength of will to kill God herself if backed into a corner, especially when fighting for someone she loves. Sweet does not mean she will not fight back, and since being in the realm, and getting over her initial freezing up at the sight of horrifying murderers, she has worked extremely hard to be brave and take an active roll protecting people whenever she can. She is still terrified a lot, but has learned to push through that to help her friends and herself.

Loves animals, including ones a lot of people don’t like (bugs, snakes, rats, etc) and would and has definitely tried to snag a scorpion and a cockroach from trials to study before, and tried to befriend the realm rats now that they exist. Tries to get Jake to show her how to get birds to like you but does know how to ask him right.

Nervous about interpersonal relationships and unsure of herself. Really likes everyone but horrible at telling how other people feel. Feels like she always comes off wrong and can’t put words to things well even when she understands them super well. Does her best 24/7. Incredibly smart and talented. Knowledgeable about her passions. Is always thinking 4th dimensionally and has saved the team many a time by pulling off wild bullshit that makes sense kind of just barely but no one else would have thought of.

Dwight was a loser and kind of a douche growing up, kind of selfish and entitled and weak, but is no longer that person after a few years in the realm. He works hard to make good on his promises to look out for everyone, and cares about them very genuinely. Great at thinking on his feet and sounding like he knows more than he does, wonderful at regulating tasks to people efficiently, and not a bad strategist. 

Being the kind of person now who would not have liked the person he was a few years ago causes a little cognitive dissonance and self-doubt, but he’s trying. Genuinely enjoys hearing about people’s days and interests even when he’s completely lost. 

Not a fan of heights. If the fear of heights was not vastly overpowered by fear of sharp object, he would actively avoid the old ironworks in trials, but alas.

Used to play video games a lot. Thought he was good at them. Was not. Was definitely not.

Self-improvement king. Works hard and is a really decent dude. A very good sport. Used to be an asshole, so now that he’s nice he’s pretty damn forgiving if other people put in the work to improve too (my boy’s no hypocrite). Has mellowed out a lot and is pretty chill and nice but the damn fool will break his own heart by taking things people say the wrong way, or things they mean as a joke literally, if it’s something he thinks is true about himself, and will totally miss context and vocal inflection and just be like, “I know but I’m trying TuT.”

Big gay but in denial and confused

Just at this point really does want people to get to go home and be ok. Loves hearing stories and listening to his friends talk at the campfire because it makes him feel like things might be okay. Get the same result just by being near his friends, especially the other og3 who have been with him forever. If they’re all still there, things have to turn out okay someday. :’ ) Has never really told them that, because he’s supposed to be the leader, and thinks they’d feel less secure if they knew he depends on being able to sleep close to them at night to feel like he’ll be okay himself. Not in a they’d judge me way, but in a I really don’t want to let them down way. He wants them to think he’s got a handle on things even when he really doesn’t.

I was gonna do Philip too but I got this this morning and this post is already ridiculously long TuT, so here you go. Plus one mini Philip one.

Philip feels responsible for the young man he saw his boss kill the day the Entity got him. He knows that he killed scores of people unknowingly for Azarov, and those weigh, but he thinks sometimes late at night that if he could have just saved that one, it might have been enough to make him feel absolved someday for all the other deaths on his head. He remembers his face very well, and how terrified he was, and the moment of confusion and relief, and almost gratefulness when Philip let him go. He thinks over and over that if he’d just talked to him–assumed something was up, and gotten him to be quiet. Seen Azarov in time and stopped him. So many little things, and the young man would have lived. Even if the others were things he was completely blind to, he feels like that one is especially his fault, and that he could have stopped it. That one really haunts him.

[teriwrites]

the big manuscript search tag

I’m compiling a bunch of different tags from @cecilsstorycorner and @akindofmagictoo so this might be a long one!

My words to find: lonely, cup, drown, routine, deep, feather, rich, contact, kick, sun, pair, whisper, king, chord, chip, prove, mix, spin, water, color, need, fade, everyday

...yeah, that’s really long, so I’m going to throw the results in a read more to spare all your feeds from a wall of text

There’s a few words that don’t appear in one project or another, so I’m going to use both Castle on the Hill and Beneath Alder Creek! Because of that, the order won’t be quite the same

Castle on the Hill:

Lonely:

For the first day of break, Hans spent the entire day lounging around his house. His mother said nothing about it, except to suggest moving to a new spot every few hours so that he wouldn’t cramp up. She was in and out of the house a lot, which Hans took as a good sign. The harder days were those in which his mother spent most of it upstairs, locked away in her room. Hans had been allowed to join her, if he wished, but he’d preferred not to see her in such a state. Still, it had led to many a lonely afternoon.

Cup:

The following morning, Peter made the short trek over to the familiar cafe for his second date with Ursula. Despite having left five minutes early, Peter arrived to find Ursula already waiting at a table, with a cup of coffee in hand. He beelined for the table and tossed his blazer onto the back of the chair across from her. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” “No worries, I enjoyed the walk,” Ursula said brightly.

Drown:

“You seemed pretty smitten with this tutor girl,” Peter mused. The sounds of a dramatic breakup on the television nearly drowned him out. He fished the remote from the coffee table and muted the television. Klaus looked between Peter and Georg, who were both sending him matching smug expressions. Georg dramatically batted his eyes at Klaus, who shoved him in the shoulder and nearly sent him toppling over the side of the couch. “Come off it,” he dismissed with a snort. “I barely know her. She’s a fox, sure, but I’m not going to lose my head over a girl I’ve met once. Klaus Müller is always on the make.” Georg leaned forwards to look at Peter. “He’s speaking in the third person again.”

Routine:

“Alrighty, now that that’s out of the way, who wants to tell me what year the European Economic Community was established?” Prof. Dietrich asked brightly, shifting back into his regular routine of starting a lecture with an oral quiz. Josef avoided the man’s eye contact, choosing instead to pretend to be desperately jotting down notes. “Herr Weber? How about you give it a shot?”

Feather:

The rest of the class shifted their attention back to the lecture, but Josef’s face flushed as he fished out his notebook from his bag. He could practically hear the stories that would be circulating later. Josef Weber, the snobby inheritor to his father’s auto company, got scolded in front of a whole class. Wouldn’t that just put a feather in quite a few caps?

Rich:

“Tell me why I didn’t decide to work as a janitor,” Klaus muttered. “You’d never succeed as a janitor; you never even had to clean your own messes growing up.” One of Klaus’ arms snapped forwards and a smack that was aiming for Georg’s shoulder instead slapped smartly against the wooden back of his chair. With a sharp intake of breath, Klaus straightened in his seat. As he rubbed at his knuckles, Klaus shot back, “That’s rich, coming from a lawyer’s son.”

Chord:

“It’s a little complicated right now,” Hans said calmly. “Look, I’ve talked it all over with my mother, and she agreed that it would be best for me to stay here. It’s not that long, Josef, don’t look at me like that.” The doubt etched into Josef’s features was enough to warrant the comment, and he shook his head to try clearing it. Nothing in Hans’ demeanor pointed towards it being a lie, but something in the idea struck a false chord in him.

Water:

Though he'd managed to subdue most of his panic, Peter felt it all rushing back. A sudden pain at his hand drew him out of his thoughts, and he realized that he'd been aggressively stirring the pasta, and some of the water had splashed out of the pot.

Fade(d):

As Hans spoke, Professor Abend’s face lit up with recognition, which quickly faded into a solemn mourning. The exam lay on the desk between the two, forgotten. “I knew I had a Faust in one of my classes, but I never thought to make a connection,” Professor Abend said in a low voice.

Beneath Alder Creek:

Deep:

A deep breath, and then Winnie followed through, dragging her other foot into the creek. The water rose halfway up her calf, and continued to rise as she made her way forwards. To her thigh, then her hip, and finally up to her waist. It was the second dress she’d soaked that day, Winnie thought with a wry smile, and, in her distraction, she failed to notice a large rock in the creek bed. It could hardly be considered a fall. Winnie pitched forwards, plunging her face into the creek for only a moment before she caught her balance and straightened up. But she’d opened her mouth as she tripped, and her rise was met with a violent coughing fit. Loose strands of hair clung to her face, making it impossible to see, and Winnie pushed forwards carefully by feeling along the bottom with her foot. The progression was slow, but Alder Creek was by no means wide, and it wasn’t long before Winnie found the water beginning to ebb away. As she pulled herself out of the creek, Winnie brushed the hair from her face and finally opened her eyes. Looking to where she’d seen the fairy ring, she froze.

Contact(ing):

Contacting the fae was no easy feat; they only made appearances of their own volition, not subscribing to any convenient timetable. While it was said that certain holidays brought the mortal world closer to their realm, years had passed before any signs revealed their presence. By then, the couple had been so eager that they’d wasted no time in seeking out a deal. They were the fourth and fifth victims within the fifteen years. Nobody had been so hasty since.

Kick(ing):

Back into the bog. Winnie no longer worried herself with her skirts, allowing them to drag through the stagnant water. It was a mistake, she soon discovered, as the drenched fabric weighed her down and made the progress even slower. With an exasperated groan, she stomped at the ground, kicking up a spray and lodging her boot into the mud.

Sun:

Time steadily passed as they traveled, though how quickly or slowly it went by, Winnie couldn’t say. She could feel the blisters beginning to form on her feet, the slight ache in her shoulders where she’d slung her bag, the warmth that spread across her back as the sun’s ceaseless rays washed over them. When she fell slightly behind Taliesin, he was shining so brightly that her eyes began to burn, and she had to quicken her pace to keep in step with him.

Pair:

The first thing Winnie noticed was the boat they were standing in. It was like a skiff, sitting low in the water and directed by a pair of oars. The figure rowing seemed to be wearing some type of headgear, a hazy and elongated shape still a little too far to make out. Taliesin moved back from the shore, forcing Winnie to do the same to provide space for the skiff to breach.

Whisper:

“Don’t stare,” Taliesin reminded her in a whisper. He raised a hand in greeting, and the figure dipped their head slightly, though how they could’ve seen it without eyes, Winnie couldn’t say. “Hail, Ferryman!”

Prove(n): 

Turning away from the Llion, the group soon found themselves returning once more to the thick fog of the wetlands. Winnie took the middle, knowing better than to have Taliesin and Enid side-by-side. In one hand, she took the long sleeve of Enid’s robes, and in the other, Taliesin’s cloak. He dragged his feet the whole time, still sulking, and it took all of Winnie’s self-restraint not to let go and leave him behind as punishment for his pettiness. Being proven wrong did not suit the golden man.

Mix(ed):

It was nearly a week later when Winnie found herself back at Alder Creek. The water level had dipped back to its usual shallows, which lazily drifted by. Winnie could see her face reflected as she stared down, features blurred in its [flowing surface]. The hem of her skirt had dipped into the water, which lapped at Winnie’s bare feet. Her shoes were somewhere behind her, abandoned, a sign of her troubled mind. For the most part, Winnie had abandoned the practice of walking about barefoot - how her mother would’ve shouted if she’d seen her. The thought of her mother brought a fresh wave of mixed humiliation and frustration as the events of the day replayed through her mind.

Spin:

A light flickered in the trees. When Winnie looked up, she stared at the sight. Taliesin was crouching on a branch, catlike, with his hands holding the branch between his feet. Somehow, he did not sway but remained perfectly still, patiently watching Winnie spin in circles to look for him, all with an amused half-smile.

Color(s):

The opening of the cavern shifted through several colors, like an ever-changing kaleidoscope of light through a prism.

Need:

She offered Enid no response, so after a stretch of silence, the statuesque woman continued. “This is out of some attachment to the Dusk fellow, then.” Winnie bristled at her tone. “Of course it’s not. I merely need him to ensure that my brother and I are able to depart the Fae safely.”

Not found:

King (Apparently my writing does not support monarchies lol)

Chip

Everyday

This was excessively long, so I’m going to leave it an open tag. The words for anyone who feels like it are king, chip, and everyday because I’m sure somebody out there has them, even if I don’t. 

[wicked-cupcake]

Her Favourite

Pairing: Lucifer/Cadence (oc)

Word Count: 4206

Rating: G

Summary: Jealousy is a bitter pill to swallow, and it's not one he has to take often. But as the weeks leading up to his birthday pass, Lucifer finds himself at the mercy of his brothers’ sins as her attention moves away from him. Instead, they look to someone he can’t contest.He has his pride and refuses to grovel - but who knew a single human could stir so many emotions within him?

A/N: This idea has been on my brain for weeks and I'm glad I started it early so I could finish it on time for the birthday boy! Even if they just put out an event and now I want to tweak this to reflect it.... There will eventually be a semi-sequel to this where they stop beating around the bush but that one is just taking a while to finish. And a small note that my character has angel blood but she isn't a descendant of Lilith.

-

Month 10, Day 6

The gentle knock on the bookshelf told him exactly who was on the other side.

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, pen still hovering over paper. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she had found him, but he was pleased she’d sought him out. Even if it was late and she should be sleeping more than anyone. Today had been filled with enough excitement to exhaust her, angel heritage or not. He’d fully assumed she’d passed out with how fast she’d disappeared after they’d returned home, yet here she was.

Another knock. “Lucifer? Are you in there?”

And he left her on the other side of the door like a fool. A sharp word had the door opening for her, the bookcase sliding away silently. It had barely stopped moving before she was stepping into view.

His gaze moved over her as the door closed. She’d changed out of the little red dress she’d worn at the party, but the hem of her sweater seemed even shorter. Or perhaps her stockings didn’t climb as high as usual. There was no time to consider that as he focused on what was in her hands. “What is that?”

Cadence gave him a smile, soft but amused. “A princess poison apple cake.”

“We had cake earlier.”

“We did,” she agreed, “you didn’t.”

So she had noticed. He’d thought she’d been too distracted by-Lucifer cut off those thoughts swiftly to stay on topic. The cake had been impossible not to balk at. If that five tiered, red frosted sweet monstrosity could be called a cake. He’d taken one look at it and immediately gotten heartburn. The plate Diavolo had given him had mysteriously vanished shortly after.

“More importantly,” she said, voice sharp and tart, “what is that?”

Only a fool would miss what she meant and for the faintest moment he wanted to be that fool. But there was no point. “My work.”

“It’s your birthday.”

How did she manage to sound both cross and cute at the same time? He didn’t linger on those thoughts as he felt the flickers of a gnawing emotion he’d been fighting for weeks to ignore come to life. He wasn’t going to lose to them now. “The work doesn’t magically disappear because it’s my birthday,” he said dryly.

She huffed. “You could take one night off. No one would fault you that.”

No one meaning Diavolo but he was the one who’d assigned him these tasks. “I took the day off because someone insisted,” he said, giving her a pointed look that didn’t faze her. “But if I leave this I’ll fall behind.”

She didn’t like that answer any better. When she’d first arrived, she’d been so much harder to read. Polite and curious, but standoffish and private. She was still polite and curious to be sure yet whatever walls kept her emotions back had fallen. At least they had for him and his brothers. Her expressions gave her away more readily, made her much easier to read and understand.

“Take a break with me.”

But she still managed to surprise him. “We took a break all day.” Which was no doubt her doing; his brothers wouldn’t have gone to half of the effort he’d seen without her encouragement. Even Diavolo couldn’t get that kind of party together for him and-

The jealousy surged to life again but all that he let show was his grip tightening on his pen. No. He’d told himself he wasn’t going down that road. It was a waste of time and energy.

“Lucifer?”

Concern on her face now and he wanted to curse. As easy as she was becoming to read, the reverse seemed to hold true. She seemed to be wildly in tune with him, able to gauge his moods with ease. Not that it stopped her pushing when she shouldn’t. 

Cadence set the cake on the desk and gave him another smile but it wasn’t the same as before and he didn’t like it. This was sad and withdrawn, reminiscent of the ones she’d first given when she’d arrived in the Devildom. “You can have a piece later,” she said. “But please take a break.”

She was going to leave. Something clawed past the jealousy inside him, something he refused to put a name to just yet. “Stay.”

Rocking on her heels as her weight shifted, she stopped but she still didn’t look convinced, didn’t look like she wanted to stay anymore. Which did not help his stew of emotions.

He’d tried to ignore them, but as the weeks since Asmo’s birthday had passed he’d seen her change. She’d grown skittish and shy around him, avoiding being alone with him. He had thought it merely a human mood until Diavolo had happily mentioned how much time Cadence had been spending with him. It hadn’t been difficult to put together that the time she’d given Lucifer before was going to Diavolo now. The jealousy had swiftly followed that realisation.

It was impossible to miss how she smiled at the prince, smiles that had bloomed and grown in this very room the more time they’d spent together. His damned pride had stung but he refused to let her see it, to let her see how much she affected him. So he had left her alone to choose her fool’s path and wondered if all of the signs, all of the signals, all of her had been a ruse to use him as a stepping stone to her true goal. And if he had been a bigger fool to read her so wrong.

But she’d been the one to take his hand to lead him into his birthday celebration today. Her smiles had been bright and directed at him again. Only him. She’d reminded him of the eternal sun in the Celestial Realm, but she had spread a warmth in him that it never had. She’d acted like the last weeks hadn’t happened at all.

He pulled back when warm fingers brushed his shoulder. How distracted was he that he hadn’t registered her getting closer?

“If you don’t want me to stay or want the cake, it’s okay, Lucifer.”

No. It wasn’t okay. This was the first time she’d sought him out in weeks and he didn’t want her to leave. He needed to know why. He set his pen down and twisted toward her. “We’ve seen each other all day and most of the night. But you want more?”

The faintest hint of pink dusted her cheeks and momentarily stunned him. “We didn’t really get to spend much time together today,” she corrected. “And I’ve been busy lately so I haven’t seen you.”

Busy chasing Diavolo, his pride hissed. Did he turn you away and now you come back to me? As a second option?

“I thought it would be nice to have a bit of quiet, but you weren’t in your room when I checked.”

She’d gone to his room dressed like this? It was more personal than the little number she’d had on before, reminded him of the nights they’d shared late dinners and watched movies. Made him realise how much he had missed having those moments with her.

“And I wanted to give you your present privately.”

Lucifer pushed out of his chair, the legs scraping on the floor. Her eyes widened at the sudden move, but she didn’t falter as he stood over her. Did she even understand what she did to him and now she was offering him what he craved?

Wrath licked at the edges of his jealousy to turn it into an even messier stew. To offer this gift to him after, to think of him second? To admit he’d been fool enough to fall for her so many months ago and leave the decision to her only to be spurned? To know so much of him still wanted her and would accept this offer?

He wasn’t sure if he was angrier at her or himself.

Warmth bloomed suddenly in his chest, spreading as a gentle pressure pushed on him. “Lucifer.”

His gaze focused on her, all of her, and he finally noticed the small red bag looped over one arm. He mentally pulled back as he realised that was his present, not her, but it wasn’t as easy to rein in his emotions. They were still a mess, feeding into each other in a horrible storm. But Cadence still didn’t move, watching him and keeping her hand on his chest.

Did she know how close to breaking he’d come? Did she know how she twisted him up inside? How had he let it come to this? How had he let himself fall so hard for her?

He stared at her as he breathed evenly, shoving emotions into their boxes while she gazed back at him. “You should have run,” he said when he finally felt confident his voice wouldn’t give him away. He could still hear the edges to it but she didn’t seem to.

“Running wouldn’t do me any good.”

No, it wouldn’t but every time she stood in his path, every time she refused to back down to him, he loved her a little more. And he was bringing about his own doom by doing it. Reaching up, he covered her hand with his and soaked in the warmth she freely offered. He didn’t miss how her eyes widened at the skin contact, but he pulled her away. “How many times am I going to have to tell you to have some self-preservation?” he said, letting go of her.

Cadence pulled her hand to her, curling it against her chest. But she gave him a better smile. “Maybe you should stop wasting your breath since it hasn’t caught yet,” she teased.

The emotional storm eased a little at her usual response. “What did you get me?”

“Nuh uh. Cake first and then present.”

“It’s my birthday.”

“It’s my present.”

“It’s my present.”

There. The smile she gave him was the one he was used to, the one that was lit up so beautifully. “It’s for you,” she countered, “but it’s still mine until I give it.”

This felt enough like their usual for him to relax further. She was smiling again, teasing him again, and he...was a fool for letting her affect him this way. “And you’ll give it?”

“I’m not going to keep your present away from you; just let me choose when to give it.”

Those emotions nipped at him, reminding him he had waited, had let her choose and she-Was here now, he told himself. Lingering gave her more power over him. “If I eat the cake, will you give it?”

Still that smile but he took it as a yes.

Moving around her, Lucifer made a point not to touch her even accidentally. He lifted the plate off his desk and gestured at one of the couches. “Shall we?”

She was moving before he fully finished, excitement hanging heavily around her again.

As they settled on the couch, he didn’t miss how there was barely any distance between them. Exactly like it had been before. “Is there a reason why you waited so late?”

She hummed and set the bag on her far side, even though they both knew he could get it before she could stop him. “I needed to finish this,” she said, taking the plate from him and passing him a fork. “And I didn’t want to have an audience.”

Why not, Cadence? “Was that in your pocket?”

“It’s clean.”

“Is it?”

“I will take my cake and present and leave if you keep that up.”

She wouldn’t or she would have already. He took the fork and gave her the benefit of the doubt. When she held the cake out to him, he dutifully reached out with his fork. It almost seemed a shame to mar it, she’d done a wonderful job of replicating the apples. But he was curious to know how it tasted.

A flash of sour hit his tongue as he slid the bite into his mouth, exactly like the apples. Had she used them in making it? Or was it in the icing, which barely had any sweetness to it?

“How’s it taste?”

“Perfect, Cadence.” His brothers were tolerable cooks but she was so far beyond them. She had spoiled them over the course of the last year and not having her cooking anymore would be a blow.

He paused as he took a second piece. Barely two months left before she would return to the human world. So little time and she- “Open up,” he said, holding the fork to her lips.

Her eyes danced a little but she did as he said and dutifully took the bite.

“I expected more fight from you,” Lucifer said, taking his own bite.

“Mm, it’s your birthday. I can behave a little.”

Did she know how much he enjoyed it when she didn’t? He gave her another bite, wondering how she could be so content letting him feed her. “Did you bring another fork?”

“Nope.”

He gave her a measuring look, not missing the sparkle in her eyes. She was lying but he could let her get away with this one. His pride still stung, demanded to be appeased, but who was he to deny himself this simple pleasure with the woman he-

Don’t, he told himself, focusing on feeding them both bites. 

They’d made it through half of the cake when she sighed, a sigh he knew well. His little human was full for now. He ate one more bite of his own, savouring the tartness of the apples on his tongue before he took the plate from her. Setting it and the fork on a side table, he glanced at the demonus bottles lining one wall and started to push himself up. A drink or two wouldn’t hurt anything, would go well after the cake, and-He paused, looking at her when she pressed her hand to his arm.

“Happy birthday, Lucifer,” Cadence said, holding out the bag.

Forget the demonus and the present, he was more interested in the smile she was giving him. This one was new, completely soft around the edges. This smile was a present. But he took the proffered bag. Black tissue paper was sticking out of the top of it, masking the proper present inside.

He glanced at her when she rolled against him, nudging him with her entire body. “Are you going to open it? It’s only your birthday for so much longer and it loses its meaning if you don’t have it today.”

“Are you telling me what to do?”

“Like you’d listen to me,” she laughed.

Leaning back, he turned the bag in his hands, wondering if there was a front to it. He didn’t see a card so he plucked at the paper. He glanced at Cadence when the couch shifted and saw her watching him expectantly. She was adorable as she waited, fingers curling around the hem of her sweater, lower lip caught between her teeth, and...was she flushing? The urge to draw this out flickered to life, to draw out her anticipation, but he quietly gave in.

Removing the rest of the paper, he reached into the bag. He frowned faintly as his fingers brushed against smooth glass, but it wasn’t cool to the touch. It was warm. He curled his hand around it and pulled it from the bag as well.

It fit perfectly in his palm, like it had been made to sit there, curved, clear glass letting him see inside. Lucifer stared at the dome in his hand, not missing the warmth settling into his skin. But he was caught by the flowers inside. They were distinctly human, not something that would ever have any hope of growing in the Devildom. “What is this, Cadence?”

“Your present,” she said and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at how she said it.

He knew devil flowers, grew so many of them himself, and knew the names of many human ones as well, including this one. But why would she give him this?

“I wanted to give you something no one else would,” she said softly, her voice quiet.

“Flowers?”

“Yes and no.”

Turning the globe, he didn’t miss how the light inside it seemed to shift, letting him see the flowers unhindered no matter which direction he looked. But he turned his focus back to her. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, her gaze on her fingers as she plucked at threads in her sweater. The flush was still on her cheeks and he had to wonder why. “What is this, Cadence?” he repeated.

She was quiet for a long moment, still playing with her sweater, until she took a deep breath. “I’m going to be leaving soon,” she said and he didn’t miss the way her voice caught. “At the end of next month. I thought about it for a long time, what I could get you that would actually mean something. I asked Diavolo and he said anything that meant something to me would mean something to you.”

She’d gone to Diavolo...to ask what gift to give him, not because she was interested in him? Lucifer studied her, wanting to see her full face. They had made the deal after Belphie’s return to them, that she wouldn’t lie to him anymore, but sometimes she didn’t tell him everything. It was easier to tell when she was hiding something when she was looking at him. But she kept looking at her hands.

“So I thought about that and I thought about how I’d be able to do that. Almost everything that mattered to me was in the human world but…. I wanted it to be something you liked as well. I thought about the gardens and how much of what little free time you have you spend there. So I got you flowers from the human world.”

Lucifer set the bag aside and shifted the gift to the other hand. “Human flowers won’t last in the Devildom.”

“I know. Which took a lot of time to figure out. More time to figure out than I expected,” she added in a mutter. “I saw more of that coven of witches than I ever wanted.”

Witches?

“I told them what I wanted, flowers for the Devildom that would last, and they gave me a solution.”

He stopped waiting. Reaching out, he caught her chin to make her look at him. Golden eyes skittered away but came back on the low noise he made. “You dealt with witches,” he said lowly. “Did you make a deal with them? What did you offer them?”

Cadence blinked at him. “I didn’t make a deal and I didn’t offer them anything beyond the materials needed to make it. I promise,” she added when he frowned at her.

“Witches don’t do anything for free.”

“They did it in return for clearing a favour,” she said. “That’s all I know.”

Had Diavolo called in the favour because it was a gift for him? Or had he done it because it was Cadence wanting to do it?

“But they gave me what I wanted,” she continued, gaze dropping to the glass in his hand. “A flower for you, from the human world that won’t wilt.”

Lucifer studied her face for another moment, taking in the happiness and pride there. 

She looked back at him and gave him a smile. “A little piece of my home for your home.”

He wavered; she was so close, so warm, his personal sun in the dark of the Devildom. She was giving him a gift, a gift she had spent so long on, but would she give him the gift he actually wanted? He tipped her face up a little, making her look at him fully. “And it’s important to you?”

“It’s my favourite flower.”

She had gone to Diavolo for this, for him, to give him her favourite flower in a way that he could keep. To have a piece of her after she left. She’d given his brothers gifts but this was personal. Her favourite flower. That something pushed past the other emotions, demanding he pay attention to it. “Carnations are your favourite?”

She hummed, nodding. “I’ve planted them every year except this one. But these will last better than anything I could have grown you.”

Her skin was so warm against his, something he had noticed the first time she had touched him. She ran hot, her blood burning in her veins to the point he’d almost thought her part demon. Which only made him wonder more about whatever angel had sired her line. But that was for another night. “Perhaps I should see if I can breed something that would grow.”

Oh the smiles she gave him! “You’ll have to send me pictures if you do. I’d love to see them.”

He’d bring her back to the Devildom to show her. He stroked his thumb over her chin and didn’t miss the way she licked her lips. Would she want a more personal thank you for the gift? Would she accept his kiss as a thank you?

His body swayed toward her, that something-that love-seizing him and wanting something in return. Her favourite flower...for her favourite demon? Was it too much to read between the lines and find that answer? The words circled in his head, narrowing down only to her favourite, and he knew he was well and truly lost to her. 

She watched him with wide, golden eyes, waiting for him to do something. Was she waiting for him to make a move for her and he’d wasted so much time waiting for her? 

The clock loudly chimed the hour, announcing it was midnight and shattering the mood between them. The flush on her cheeks suddenly had nothing to do with arousal or want and he let her go.

But she was slow to lean back, golden gaze darting over his face as if she hadn’t expected him to stop. He watched her as she sorted herself out and quickly looked away from him.

He wanted to tuck her hair behind her ear as it shielded her face from him, wanted to see what she was hiding from him. “Thank you for the present, Cadence.”

She took a deep breath before looking back at him, a fragile smile on her lips. It quivered as he looked at it but it didn’t fall. “You’re welcome, Lucifer.”

He knew it was going to happen but he still didn’t like it as she pushed off the couch, tugging her sweater down. He wanted to tell her she could stay, to help him finish the cake, but what moment they had had was gone.

“Try not to stay up all night,” she told him. “It’s not healthy.”

Ever the concern. “Cadence.”

She turned at the door, a curious look on her face.

“Humans give flowers meanings,” he said, holding up the present. “Do you know what these mean?”

It was hard to tell from his spot on the couch and the lighting in his study wasn’t the best, but he thought he saw her cheeks colour again. “No. Good night, Lucifer, and happy birthday.”

Little liar. He watched her leave, the two words floating through his mind. Had she lied again because he let her have the one about the fork? She said it was her favourite flower; surely she had looked it up and knew.

Setting the flower globe on the table in front of him, he pulled out his DDD as he leaned back. It took hardly any time at all to find the flower and his mouth turned down. How did one flower have so many meanings? He scrolled through the history of carnations before he stopped as the colours were finally listed.

Lucifer stared at the words written by dark red. Deep love? His gaze jerked up to the door even though he knew she’d made a hasty retreat after her lie. Everything she had done over the last handful of weeks had been to give this to him? She hadn’t been chasing Diavolo but enlisting his help to get her this present that symbolised her feelings for him? She’d been shy because she knew what this meant and that he wouldn’t wait to search up the meaning? She felt the same as he did?

He let out a slow breath and stared at the flowers. The light inside the glass was shining gently, glistening on the dew drops on the petals. She loved him. She wasn’t using him to get anywhere. She was coming to him in her own ways.

Leaning back, he closed his eyes as he let his head rest on the back of the couch. “You’re running out of time, Cadence,” he said quietly to the empty room. “I’ll wait for you, but don’t make me wait too long.”

A lie of his own. He’d wait as long as he had to if it meant she gave herself to him fully and without reservation. 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Art Of Remembrance (Part 40)

Honestly, can’t believe I’m at chapter 40. Anyways, I guess this is gonna be one of my final updates for now. Today just so happened to be my designated fic typing day. So I’m gonna post this as well. Of course future chapters will be on Ao3 and Fanfic for while I’m gone. Thanks to everyone who has supported the fic up to this point.

Sokka had expected to take it much harder, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he might just be happier without her. She is no longer there to argue with him over ridiculous things. And he no longer has to face her problems for her. Perhaps with her is a more truthful statement, but he isn’t ready to embrace the whole truth yet. He isn’t ready to look at things without a degree of resentment. Indeed he thinks that he is better off.

Yet, in the back of his mind he goes back to that night under the auroras. That night where she’d come to him and offered to do something he enjoyed. To the day in the swamp where she’d sat with him and comforted him.

It has been several days since she had fled. The first had been the worst, the most hectic. In a moment of panic Zuko had assumed that she’d simply taken flight again; ran off into the streets. In telling him that she’d mentioned going back to Fire Lake he’d replied with a swift, “what if she decided not to wait for the ship?”

He’d only be settled when Dr. Phang confirmed that she’d left on the ship. Even then he’d found a new thing to fret over, “what if that was a trap? What if she’s on her way back to another Vine Research Facility compound?” He relaxed completely the following day when he’d received a messenger hawk from her.

For Sokka the first day had been nothing but regret. Regret that he’d written her off so quickly. Regret that he’d let anger and hurt and feelings of betrayal overpower love. Regret that he hadn’t come to check on her sooner, before she’d left.

That first day he’d paced about and vented to Katara, to Aang, to Toph, to Zuko, to Appa and Momo, to anyone who would listen really. And soon that regret and hurt turned back into anger and venting became ranting. Rambling about how she is selfish and how she’d stabbed him in the back. How she is a hypocrite for stabbing him in the back when she knows too well how terrible the feeling is.

Now he reclines on a chair in the palace gardens awaiting further news about Long Feng’s whereabouts. So far the man has been keeping his head down, but he doesn’t doubt that once he gets word of Azula’s vulnerability, he will make his move. Whether she knows it or not, she is bait. That hadn’t been his intention. It certainly wasn’t Zuko’s. But she’d probably admire how cunningly and swiftly he was planning on taking advantage of the situation.

Despite it all he still has a touch of worry for the princess. Raava forbid that they actually capture her again. For as much teeth as she is showing, for as much of the old her is back, he can’t imagine her faring well against rekindled traumas.

Sokka’s mind wanders to the night at the compound. The small on his chest. Holding her has she cried softly.

She doesn’t cry anymore, he reminds himself. He catches himself before he accuses her of being unfeeling. Unexpressive is more befitting. He pushes the thoughts out of his head. He doesn’t know why he is having them now after several days of either celebrating Azula’s absence or not thinking of her at all.

He misses her and he is angry that he does. He tells himself that it is for the best. That she isn’t right for him and that she isn’t healthy for him. That she has just been difficult and a pain in the ass from the start; he thinks of her bundled up and shivering, finger freshly claimed by the cold. Alright, maybe not from the start…

.oOo.

It feels terribly odd to be sitting in Dr. Yu-Kang’s office on her own accord. She feels rather awkward. Awkward and almost ashamed to admit that she can’t handle things on her own. That she can’t get a grip on her own thoughts.

“Dr. Phang told me that you asked him to erase your memories again?”

Azula nods. Dr. Yu-Kang waits for her to elaborate. She doesn’t

“Why is that?”

Azula inhales sharply. She has come here to talk so she better talk.

“Do you want to address something different to begin with?”

Azula shakes her head. “I want to talk about this.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” Dr. Yu-Kang offers. “Would you like something to drink.”

She shakes her head again. “I asked him to take my memories again because it’s...they make things feel wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Like I shouldn’t be talking to Zu-Zu or Mai and Tylee. Like I shouldn’t...love Sokka.”

Dr. Yu-Kang nods. “Well why does this feel wrong to you?”

She shrugs. “Because, before I left they’d have nothing to do with me. If I didn’t lose my memories they wouldn’t have let me in. I don’t think I would have wanted to be let in.”

“But you did lose them.” Dr. Yu-Kang replies. “The universe has a balance. If you weren’t meant to have lost your memories, you wouldn’t have. And if you weren’t meant to be found by Sokka then it wouldn’t have happened.”

“A coincidence, I assure you.” Azula replies.

“You don’t believe in fate?”

“Do I come off to you as the type who would?” She links her hands and rests them atop her knee.

Dr Yu-Kang chuckles. “I suppose that you don’t. You are in charge of your own fate. You like to be in charge of your own fate.”

“Yes, that’s correct.” Azula agrees.

“Then choose it. You can cling to your past and your old memories or you can acknowledge them, leave them in the past, and continue with the life your new memories have begun.” She takes a drink. “That is your choice. That is what you control.”

Azula swallows. “Yes well, that  still doesn’t change that that person wasn't even me. They, Sokka, Zuko, all of them...they like a false version of me.”

Dr. Yu-Kang looks into her teacup for the longest time. Azula is certain that she has outwitted the woman, even if that wasn’t the goal. In fact it is exactly what she had dreaded, that her therapist wouldn’t even have any advice to offer. At last she looks up. “Have you considered that, that simply isn’t true?”

Azula tilts her head.

“I know that you don’t like to be. But you are wrong, princess.”

“Excuse me?” She half sputters, half grumbles.

Again Dr. Yu-Kang gives a slight chuckle. “I know that you have had this discussion before, princess; you lost your memories, you didn’t lose you. Whatever you said and did without your memories, is something within the realm of possibility for you to have done with them. It is nearly impossible to erase a person’s nature entirely. One would have to do a lot of damage to achieve that.” She lets that settle in. “I have spoken with you enough to know that you require proof so I will offer it.”

Azula shifts, switching which leg overlaps the other.

“When we were discussing Yion’s crimes and my…” she coughs “negligence and incompetence, it felt as though you had never lost your memories at all. Your ability to resume firebending with such expertise, your authoritative and intimidating presence, your inclinations to have control, and your intelligence. The things that defined the old you were still there. You had simply acquired new perspectives and sides of yourself.” She pauses again. “That is what this is; there is no new and old you. There is the old you with new goals, desires, and personality facets.”

“New facets…” Azula repeats more to herself.

“Your older personality traits and your new ones aren’t incompatible. And these new feelings and relationships have just as much value as your old ones. I would say that they have more value.”

Her face falls, “I’ve already made a mess of those.”

Dr. Yu-Kang quirks a brow. “This is the first time you’ve been in a relationship, isn’t it?”

Azula’s face colors. Enough so that Dr. Yu-Kang is confident in continuing her line of thought. “Romantic partnership is like any other kind of partnership. There will be fights, I think that you know this. There will be bad fights. But that doesn’t mean that the relationship is over, even if it seems like it is.”

She feels like a fool for not being able to grasp something so simple. She quietly vocalizes as much before she can stop herself.

“Inexperience is different from incompetence. I know enough of your history to know that you haven’t been particularly exposed to love nor a healthy relationship. I don’t think that this will be a problem for you, you are a fast learner.”

Azula swallows. “Yes, I suppose, but I still don’t know how to fix things.”

“I think that you do, you just don’t want to.”

“I do…”

“Then you are going to have to put your pride aside for the moment. And you’re going to have to deal with some discomfort.”

She shifts again, she supposes she already feels plenty uncomfortable, she is almost dizzy with it. “What if Sokka doesn’t want to talk.”

“We can talk about that if it happens. I am not his therapist, but he is around you enough for me to get a little sense of him. He doesn’t strike me as the type to give up on someone.”

Azula flexes her fingers. “Alright.”

“Though I suggest that you ask him why he is upset with you.” She pauses. “It is easy to only think of oneself in an argument. Don’t you think that you might have hurt him too? Usually people don’t lash out if they aren’t hurt in some way.”

“I’ll…” she hesitates. “Keep that in mind.” Empathy,  sympathy, compassion...they had never come easily to her. To the old her… To the person who hadn’t acquired new viewpoints. She thinks, she hopes, that she is able to feel them now. She supposes that she must, if she is even considering apologizing. She practically cringes at the thought of an apology. There is almost nothing she likes less than being wrong.

“Is there anything else you’d like to speak with me about?”

She gathers that she probably shouldn’t resume speaking with Sokka by unloading her anxieties onto him. “I am concerned about Long Feng. I feel like he is going to come for me at any moment and I’m just as alone now as…”

“I don’t mean to cut you off, but you are not alone anymore. And I think that you are perfectly capable of handling him, especially now that you know more or less, what you are facing.”

“Yes, right.” She agrees.

.oOo.

Sokka finds himself looking at the ocean. His feet have carried him to the docks and he can’t say why. The wind tosses his hair as he looks in the general direction of Lake Fire institute.

“You’re thinking about my sister again, aren’t you?” Zuko laughs.

He jumps. “No!” He says too quickly.

He laughs again, “she has this way of just making you dwell upon her even if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, well I don’t know what to do about her. I just know that she makes me so angry and I don’t even know if she feels bad about it.” He backtracks. “Bad enough to put herself aside, anyways.”

“Yeah, that’s Azula. She is tricky. But at least now she’s trying.”

Sokka rubs the back of his head. He supposes that she wouldn’t have taken herself to Lake Fire if she wasn't trying. At least now she has the sense to admit that she needs help. He runs his fingers through his hairline, feeling as though he should be helping. But it isn’t his job to fix her, he reminds himself.

“How about this?” Zuko offers. “See what she says to you when she comes home and go from there.”

“Do you have my back?”

Zuko hesitates. “I’ll have your back, but I don’t want to give up on her myself.”

He doesn’t want to give up on her either.

[sarahw-writing]

“Let It Snow” - 03 Fire

Well guys, here's the new prompt!

I finished it a few days ago, but my Christmas and post-Christmas days have been a bit busier than I first anticipated, so it took me a little longer to find the time to edit this one.

I've actually enjoyed one of my best Christmas in a long time, and I really hope that you've all had an amazing time too!

I hope you like this one, and Happy New Year!!!

Summary:

After a highly unusual Christmas Eve, Vegeta will take delight in an even more remarkable Christmas Day...

This may or may not be a naughty prompt, so as always:

You can read the uncensored version on AO3.

You can read the censored version on FF.

Or you can keep reading under the break:

03. Fire.

Vegeta stood his ground in the midst of the storm, feet firmly planted on the barren rocks as an endless tidal of vast, raging waves broke against his immobile form, buried amongst a flood of tempestuous waters, an ocean just as turbulent as the thoughts suffocating his perturbed heart.

He could still feel them, he could still feel those small hands clutching his sweater in her sleep as she’d drifted off in his nervous embrace the night before, just like he could still hear those drowsy, whispery words, begging him to stay after he’d carried her to her bed, trying to carefully untangle her arms from his neck, and get her to let go of him, with no success.

“Please don’t go…” Bulma murmured in his ear, shimmery eyes still half-open, but already drizzled with sleep.

It was terrifying, absolutely terrifying how easy it’d been for him to obey her wishes last night, sensing his body freely choosing to stay beside her long before his mind could catch up with his own reckless actions.

He’d quietly removed his shoes, trying to ignore the nerve-racking emotion that that pair of greedy little hands evoked inside of him, obstinately refusing to set him free, not even after he managed to sneak into her girly bed, joining her under the covers and lying with her.

At first, the Prince had expected a repeat of their first night together in the infirmary, hoping for the sleepy earthling to release him, perhaps curling by his side, now that she’d finally convinced him to ease her loneliness by keeping her company.

But Bulma’s body seemed to have different plans for him, and it wasn’t long before the intrepid woman broke the rules, one more time, smashing yet another one of his boundaries by getting even closer, pressing her lithe figure against his pitifully trembling one, and holding onto him as if she’d always been meant to be right in his arms.

The weak hands that had once been draped around his strong neck for support, had now found refuge in the broad protectiveness of his chest, tiny fingers grasping his warm clothing as her legs naturally entangled themselves with his own, languidly rubbing her cheek against his flushed neck in exactly the same way she had when she’d leaned into him underneath that white mantle of snow.

Everything in her was soft, gentle, so terribly inviting that his anxious indecision quickly vanished into thin air, chasing the memory of the chaste cuddle they’d both indulged in outside, and instinctively trapping her in his arms, binding her in a placid hold as the longest sigh caressed his skin, as if the only thing she’d ever needed to find some peace was for him to give into her humble pleas.

She’d felt smaller than ever beneath his touch, and he couldn’t help but panic at the realization of just how fragile, how absurdly defenseless she truly was, and how brave it’d been for such a delicate creature to get as close to him as she undeniably had, not only in the physical but in the emotional realm, touching and reaching out to him, tugging at his darkened heart in ways no one ever had.

He’d hardly gotten any rest that night, merely dozing on and off from time to time, acting like some inexperienced juvenile as he watched her sleep with ingenuous fascination. He couldn’t deny to himself any longer that he’d fantasized with a moment such as this more times than he could count, yet no fantasy would ever come close to the sensation of that minute body flowing in his hands, that slow, rhythmic breathing reminding him of how marvelously comfortable the gutsy woman felt in his presence.

Vegeta spent the night drowning in the purity of her essence, in that clean, lily-white scent incessantly emanating from her. And, either he was getting close, dangerously close to losing whatever remained of his sanity, or he had, as sure as creed, heard his name slipping from her lips in her state of blissful unconsciousness.

The Prince had, at least, possessed enough willpower left in him to part from her before she’d rise and shine, reluctantly disentangling his needy body from her own deprived one, and giving her one last, longing glance as he’d stood on her balcony, a defeated figure bathed by the early rays of sunshine, devouring the heart-wrenching sight of the small woman swaddled in a cocoon of pink sheets and floral blankets, whining faintly in her sleep, lamenting the loss of the man who’d kept her safe all through the night.

His new masterplan had taken shape the moment he’d flopped down exhaustedly on his miserable bed, furious with himself for having behaved, yet again, like some silly puppet in the hands of that wicked woman, gladly allowing himself to fall into whatever sentimental trap she’d conceived, and built, especially for him, and vowing to duck out from that blasted house as soon as he squeezed in a few vital hours of sleep.

But then Panchy Briefs had to make another one of her annoying entrances, barging into his room with her perky giggles and that disconcerting, maternal tone, followed by another irresistible whiff of succulent foods and, before he knew, he was sitting at the table once more, impotent to escape the nightmare that these infernal ‘Christmas’ celebrations had become.

He’d partly found some consolation in the abundant feast of tasty goodies, and in the comforting fact that the only ones enjoying with him that heavenly ‘Christmas Day’ lunch would be Dr. Briefs and his peppy wife.

And then she came along, brightening up the whole place with her invigorating presence, and making the food in his mouth instantly fall into his stomach, hard as a rock, when she brazenly sat right in front of him with zero hesitation.

There had been no fancy jewels or elaborated hairdos this time but, much to his shame, the Prince had been entirely unable to keep his eyes off her throughout the whole meal, powerless to ignore those shiny blue curls, which she’d chosen to carelessly set free, or that simple, but oddly elegant, little black dress, with long sleeves and a demure décolletage, openly exposing the most kissable collarbones with every casual flick of her hair.

But the most unbearable torture of them all had been that smile, that pure, honest-to-Gods smile of hers, perhaps not as bright as the one she’d proudly displayed before her ex-lover’s betrayal, but just as candid, inundating his confused mind with absurd thoughts and the most ridiculous of hopes, the secret hope that he’d been the only one responsible for the rebirth of her lost happiness.

Too much.

It had all been too damn much, and the only thing left for him to do, the moment his ravenous Saiyan appetite had been fully sated, was to awkwardly mumble the pathetic shadow of an excuse, getting the Hell out of Bulma’s home before he’d end up making a fool of himself, just like he’d done the previous night.

He’d practically galloped straight to the door, blasting off into the freezing skies with not one look back, not even bothering to get out of his formal clothes as he sped up, setting loose in a futile attempt at letting off steam, desperately striving to leave such madness behind, from her every gesture and charming mannerism, to those increasingly intimate moments shared in confidence, away from the rest of the world, and that turmoil of foreign emotions overruling his spirit, taking over from his usual cold, detached self, and scattering suggestive ideas and fantasies that he’d never truly indulged in before.

It’d been a long while since he’d run from the Briefs household like this, seeking solace in the silent comfort of solitude. But now, as he stood stoically amid some thunderous sea storm in the middle of one of Earth’s majestic oceans, he bitterly discovered that loneliness no longer seemed to pacify his insanity as effectively as it once did.

His shoulders fell in defeat, his regal body growing limp at the frightening realization that there was nowhere to run, no place to hide anymore, and that the time had come for him to make a choice, to either walk away from the bewitching female, and from everything she represented, or to cave in and let Destiny take charge, surrendering to the woman’s magnetism, once and for all.

 And Destiny turned out to be a golden light, an illuminated window guiding him through the dark of night as he walked the perennial fields of snow that Capsule Corp.’s immense gardens had become, deliberately letting go, with each hypnotized step, of his fears and inhibitions, not even knowing what Life had in store for him yet, but accepting, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that his capricious Luck would somehow be bound to one being, and one being only.

Destiny was a woman sitting by the fireplace, finding shelter in the cozy seclusion of her home’s small guest house, a sacred place that no one but her ever made use of anymore. He watched her unashamedly through the glass doors, not afraid, for once, of the possibility of getting caught in the act by the brilliant woman whose stunning blue eyes were now daydreaming in front of a sea of sizzling flames, a small hand swirling a thick glass of liquor distractedly, while the other toyed with the fringes of the Persian rug that served her as perch.  

Destiny was a jubilant smile, followed by a lanky finger curling in a come-hither motion, happily inviting him to join her, without qualm, the second her curious gaze discovered the unmistakable silhouette of the familiar intruder lurking outside.

 Destiny was Bulma.

 “There you are!” She exclaimed with relish, her genuine joy at seeing him joining her for the evening racing a barrage of emotions all through him. “I’ve been looking for you all day… Come! Come sit with me!” She asked enthusiastically, already patting the cushy rug with the excitement of an impatient little girl, eager to share her special surprise with the stunned object of her affections. “I have a surprise for you!”

“You do?” Vegeta asked in bewilderment, cautiously joining her on the carpeted floors by sitting cross-legged beside her.

“Yup!” She announced, the thrilled pride in her voice making her anticipation contagious by the minute. “I guess it’s my Christmas present for you…” Bulma confessed, letting go of her untouched glass and turning to her side, where a pillow, a furrowed blanket, and a pile of wrinkly blueprints revealed that, whatever it was that she had in the cards for him, she must have been working hard at it for a while.

He waited patiently for her to find what she was looking for, doing his best to stop his stupefied face from showing any emotion, especially his honest surprise at discovering that the woman had one of those holiday gifts for him too.

She’d already briefly introduced him to such a bizarre tradition the night before, after having exchanged quite a few of them with her closest friends, but Vegeta had simply assumed that he would be excluded from this ritual this time. After all, Bulma and her family had already shown him far more generosity than anyone ever had, and it wasn’t as if he was in the position to give her anything in return, should she ever choose to present him with some sort of special gift.

“Alright… I found it…” She murmured to herself, successfully finding her chosen blueprint and crawling clumsily towards him, her knee casually touching his as she sat nearby. “Look!” She proclaimed, proudly spreading out the large piece of paper before his inquisitive eyes.

“What…?” Vegeta mumbled reticently, with that sense of embarrassment striking him every time he was in the presence of one of Bulma’s prodigious inventions. “What is it?”

“It’s a new training bot!” Bulma clarified, a sympathetic smile etched on her lips at how strangely vulnerable the proud warrior looked whenever he was shown something he knew nothing about. “Look…” She calmly proceeded to explain, making the Saiyan’s mouth run dry when she leaned almost indecently into him, resting the mysterious document on his lap and running her fingers all over it. “The exterior is made of this new alloy that my Dad and I have just patented. It’s much more resilient, not only to your blows, but also to extreme heat. And, you see this?” She asked, pointing to one of the circuit designs with her index finger, without even giving him the opportunity to answer before she resumed her masterful presentation. “I’ve finally solved this equation that’s been driving me crazy all week! So, basically, this bot will have several settings, and tons of aleatory programs, so it’ll make things really challenging for you!”

The Prince gawked at the enigmatic blueprint in sheer shock, aiming to digest, with severe difficulty, not only the tsunami of brand-new information that she’d just put at his disposal, but the incredible thoughtfulness of such a gift. It wasn’t one of those useless, sentimental presents that these foolish humans were so inexplicably fond of, but a real gift, something that would help him grow and improve, something that would allow him to attain the one dream that mattered to him the most.

“So…? What do you think?” Bulma prodded, her good-hearted smile never faltering, trying to lighten the mood of a man who was clearly struggling with a generosity that he, very possibly, thought himself wholly unworthy of. “Pretty cool, uh?”

Vegeta’s gaze returned to the woman, and to that gorgeous smile of hers, awkwardly clearing his throat while trying to think of something, anything, to say, yet knowing that he’d fall pitiably short regardless of his choice of words.

“It’s…”

“Acceptable?” She guessed gingerly, a playful expression dancing in her eyes as she secretly tried to spare him from embarrassing himself.

Even if the pigheaded Saiyan still remained an enigma in far too many ways, all these months living together hadn’t been entirely wasted on her and, by now, Bulma had already unraveled quite a few of the Prince’s secrets. The main one being that, for all of that pompously conceited mumbo-jumbo that he loved to babble about on the battlefield, Vegeta was painfully uncomfortable, most times verging on pathologically shy, when it came to expressing his emotions anywhere else; and, though he loved to bicker and order her around any time he needed repairs on his beloved Gravity Room, he always seemed to be at a loss for words whenever she was the one who’d take the initiative in helping or having a nice gesture with him.

“I’m glad you like it…” Bulma whispered fondly, her heart breaking a little at the way he timidly nodded in assent, those obsidian eyes now evading hers, getting lost in the spellbinding flames of her fireplace. “You’ve never had these before, have you?”

Her new offer, and a warm, appealing scent he’d never smelled before, instantly made him peep at the woman’s hands, which had now put down her precious blueprints, and were graciously holding a large bowl in front of him.

“They’re chestnuts,” she pointed out, delicately resting the bowl on the rug. “I just roasted a few. They’re really nice, you’ll see… They’re kind of sweet…” She carried on, picking up a few of the small brown items and placing them on the open palm of his hand. “You have to peel them like this, and then… Wa-Wait!”

“What?” He frowned, his mouth freezing, having popped the whole thing in right after hearing the word ‘sweet’.

“Um… Uh… You’re… You’re supposed to peel them first…” Bulma broke down, trying as hard as she could not to crack-up at the hilarious view of her alien guest holding a mouthful of unpeeled chestnuts in his mouth. “See? Like this…” She demonstrated, slowly peeling one of them and splitting it in half. “And then you open it first, like this, in case there’s a worm inside of…”

She hadn’t even finished her sentence and Vegeta was already spitting out a bunch of half-chewed chestnuts, at the speed of light, straight into the fire.

“There are WORMS in this?!” He barked, absolutely horrified at the mere thought of such repulsive critters.

“What? No, no!” She exclaimed defensively, surprised at seeing him so openly disgusted by something of this nature, particularly considering that little Goku had once offered to share one of his centipedes with her for supper. “It’s… It’s actually very rare, I swear! It’s just in case…”

“Hmph!” He snarled, his scrunched nose reminding her of some bratty five-year-old refusing to eat his Brussel sprouts.

“Aw, come on Vegeta…” She pleaded, both incredibly amused and a little worried about such a strong reaction, wondering if perhaps there was some obscure, traumatic event associated to those scary worms. “I’ll do it for you. Here…”

Bulma expertly peeled one roasted little nut, cracking it in half and examining it with great attention, before tentatively offering it once again to the offended Saiyan who kept side-eyeing her as if she were holding a bottle of pure poison in her hand.

“Please? Pretty please?” She begged, puckering her bottom lip like a needy brat. “You trust me, right?”

“…”

 ‘Damn her!’

 Damn her and those sad puppy eyes, and her blushing cheeks and fluttery eyelashes, and her luminous smiles and unreal kindness. Damn her and those stupidly pointless ‘Christmas’ celebrations, and her sappy gifts and fluffy pink socks. Damn her and her foolish generosity, and her steady hands, never relenting, never letting go, treating him like a man instead of a monster. And damn those goddamned roasted chestnuts for tasting so goddamned good, just like every goddamned thing she’d ever given to him, when he finally had the courage to accept her invitation and eat the goddamned thing.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” She whispered, her tone subdued, but brimming with the calm satisfaction of a woman who was gradually discovering that, perhaps, she held more power over the man she was falling for than she ever knew.

They both ate in silence by the fire, with Bulma peeling and meticulously checking every single one of the warm delicacies, before passing them to the compliant Saiyan quietly appreciating them. Every now and then, she’d eat one herself, but she gladly gave most of them to her guest, happy to see him enjoying yet another one of her home’s traditions, and overcome by the most nostalgic déjà vu as she evoked the times when it was her Mom the one peeling her chestnuts for her, it felt like centuries ago now.

When they were done, Bulma discreetly set the empty bowl aside, stifling a muffled yawn while stretching like a mellow kitty, ready to share one more treat with him tonight.

“You must taste this…” She murmured naughtily, taking a small sip of the half-full glass of liquor she’d been idly stirring in her hand when he’d first found her tonight, closing her eyes and moaning softly as she savored every drop, before offering it to him. “It’s my Dad’s favorite cognac. It’s more than fifty years old…”

Vegeta didn’t vacillate this time, bringing the heavy glass under his nose and inhaling a long, deep breath, before getting a leisurely taste of the intoxicating brew. The Prince had never cared much for alcohol, finding Earth’s wide assortment of liquors especially weak for his insanely fast metabolism, but he had to admit that this particular blend was pretty damn good.

He savored it slowly, deliberately, letting it melt in his tongue the same way her tiny moan had melted in his ears, never taking his eyes off the woman who kept staring at the comfy fire as if it held the answers to her every question in life.

“I haven’t thanked you yet…” She muttered, her stare low, but with a shy confidence that implied that she’d already made peace with whatever Demons had been tormenting her in recent times.

“What for?” He asked genuinely, so deeply overwhelmed by the swell of foreign emotions and events experienced during those past few days, that he didn’t even know what to think of her, of them, anymore.

“I don’t know,” she confessed in a meek whisper. “For understanding, I guess…” She turned to him, the peacefulness in her serene smile awakening something occult and forbidden inside of him. “It’s nice to have someone on my side…”

 Her side.

A man like him, an eternal outlander with no real home or roots to speak of, had no one’s side but his own, taking and plundering as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted, without owing anyone a goddammed thing in return.

And yet, as preposterous as it sounded, if there was one being, just one single being who deserved to have his side no matter what, it should be Bulma. The one who’d offered him a home, and everything his heart could ever desire, in order to conquer his most coveted dream, the one who’d given him more, far more, than a penniless scoundrel like him would ever deserve, without asking for a thing, not one blasted thing, in return.

All in all, Vegeta figured that, since the beautiful dummy had been foolish enough to take his side, it would only be fair for him to take hers as well.

 “And thank you for staying with me last night,” she insisted, laying a soft hand on his forearm and petting it lightly. “I know it wasn’t easy for you…”

Bulma cheekily reclaimed her glass, briefly running the tip of her tongue across her upper lip as she brought it smoothly to her mouth, bracing herself for her grand revelation.

“Yamcha called after lunch, you know?” She confided, breaking into a roguish smile when she saw one of the warrior’s eyebrows raising with unexpected curiosity. “He tried to tell me about some big fight he just had with that dumb girl… I don’t know…” She shrugged with palpable disinterest, taking another sip of the bittersweet drink and languidly tilting her head back as she tossed it down. “I told him to go fuck himself…” She proudly concluded, looking Vegeta right in the eye with a cocky smirk that he could have easily made his own, instantly erasing his sudden fear that she might consider taking that worthless idiot back in a moment of weakness.

“Good girl…” He purred in approval, sending shivers down her spine with his husky bedroom voice, and with that sly smile curling his lips as he leaned to her, covering her hand with his own as he stole her glass, washing down the rest of the potent drink in one clean gulp.

His fingers lingered around hers as they both held the empty glass, his touch anxious but firm, rugged fingertips stroking her shaky hand with a closeness he’d never shown her before, holding her stare for a lifechanging instant until he lost his nerve, letting go of her as that irresistible smirk died out on his lips.

Bulma’s gaze remained fixated on the empty glass, captivated, enthralled by that almost magical exchange as the room spiraled around her out of control. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt the direct contact of the Prince’s flesh against hers, but such innocent moments of intimacy had always been accidental, casual, a far cry from the affectionate nearness they’d both engaged in ever since he’d agreed to keep her company in that cold infirmary.

In any other man, she would have never dared to look much into such apparently superficial instants but, in this man, a man who kept his masked heart guarded under lock and key at all times, she couldn’t help but feel that such wonderful gestures of kindness had truly meant something, something real, something that could lead them both to the most extraordinary path, if only she succeeded in helping him set his emotions free.  

“All those years…” She whispered pensively under her breath, contemplating her future at the bottom of an empty glass of expensive cognac. “All those years wasted…”

The glass was soon discarded, and she sat still on the spot, tucking one lock of that aquatic mass of tousled curls behind her ear as her abstracted stare walked through those scorching flames, under the watchful eye of a certain Saiyan Prince who simply didn’t know what to believe anymore.

There was longing in her words, but not in her demeanor, nothing but a cool, collected calmness, a quietude that let it slip that the woman freely sharing her inmost feelings with him, had already made her choice.

“Sometimes…” Bulma thought out loud, that unnervingly blue gaze falling right back on him as she cutely tipped her head to the side, looking at him through brand-new eyes. “I think sometimes you don’t… You don’t really fall in love with a person…” She resolved, the palms of her hands now splayed on the lavish rug, proceeding to crawl in his direction, with the idle indolence of a sensual little tigress who’d just spotted her next prey. “Sometimes…” She concluded in a raspy whisper, taking advantage of his unusually low guard, and effortlessly straddling his strong thighs as he kept sitting sloppily on the floor. “Sometimes you just fall in love with an idea…”

She truly was delicious, the most lethal combination of virtue and sensuality he’d ever met, carelessly discussing words of love with the childish naiveté of a teenage girl, but seeking, and taking control of him, with the savvy expertise of the finest of women.

And, although she was the one who knew emotion in ways he never would, her softness never got lost on the way, that compassionate purity of spirit that made him understand that she’d never cross a line he wouldn’t wish her to.

“Do you know what I mean?” She asked meaningfully, amazed by how young he suddenly looked as he let her docilely caress his cheeks with those silky fingertips. “What we did last night…” Bulma muttered gently, knowing that he had no possible reply to her first question. “I liked it…”

“Woman…” He mumbled in gruff warning, fighting not to lose himself between that pair of curvaceous thighs narrowing around him as she pressed herself even tighter against him.

“Did you…?” Her shaky question spilled from her lips, hating herself for feeling so completely naked, so exposed to a man who could so easily break her heart before she’d even give it to him. “Did you like it too?”    

She gasped in mild shock when he clutched her wrists without warning, taking her bold hands off his face as he huffed sharply through his nose, lips pursed into a cautionary thin line, not even sure if he was about to caution her or himself at this point.

All he knew was that he was about to lose, he was about to lose his own battle of self-control to this woman, and the stupidest truth of the matter was that he didn’t care anymore, because nothing really mattered, nothing but her and her inspiring presence, and the only question worth asking tonight, the only measure of reassurance that she could ever offer to someone like him.

“What about your human lover?” He blurted out, the disgust overtaking his cracked voice, at the mere thought of Bulma ever belonging to anyone but him, plain as day.

His irrational jealousy must have boosted her confidence, for she smiled grippingly at him, exquisite and delighted, already savoring the triumph of the unintentional admission of his selfish interest in her.

“I just told you, Vegeta…” She whispered bucolically, her fingers grazing his jaw, despite having her frail wrists still trapped under his firm hold. “He was just an idea…”

“I am not an idea, Bulma…” He murmured darkly, hands tightening in desperate warning, reminding her of who he was, trying to stop her from ever forgetting that she was about to dance, quite literally, with the Devil himself.          

“I know…” She promised, her delicate face finding his, resting her brow against him as she held his starved gaze with unblinking confidence.

 She knew.

He was real, perhaps the realest man she’d ever encountered, nothing like those Ivy League sycophants who used to prowl around her father’s mighty company, professional adulators trying to charm Capsule Corp.’s golden heiress, uselessly doting and kissing up to her, in hopes of getting into her bed and loaded bank account.

But this man, this untamable alien warrior, was anything but a charmer, he’d never lie or be untrue, because he was who he was, and nothing and no one would ever change that, or so he thought. Vegeta would never pretend to be something, someone, he was not, if anything, Bulma had learnt by now that the Saiyan Prince seemed to go out of his way to make himself as unapproachable as he could, not because he didn’t possess a heart, but because he was utterly terrified of anyone finding out that he did.

She couldn’t afford the luxury to ever forget that, if she got too close, she might get burnt, but she also knew that the man trembling in need beneath her, staring at her with an intensity that would have made any other woman slip instantly away, would never pretend to be anything but fire.

 Her binding words brought his surrender, arms dropping submissively on both sides, letting her merge her lips with his as her eager hands explored him, leisurely sliding across his heated skin until they found the nape of his neck, velvety fingers holding onto him as she boldly sought to deepen their kiss.

She could think of nothing but how surprisingly gentle he was, how anxious and untried, even after having already shared a first innocent smooch last night. His mouth was soft, twitchy, too afraid at first to part his lips for her as he did his best to follow her lead, indulging in an exotic human ritual that he’d seen before only in those ridiculous soap operas that the earthling’s mother seemed to adore so much and, of course, whenever he’d inadvertently walked in during one of the scarred-faced man’s visits to the woman who was now giving herself to him with such fervor.

He’d hated her mate back then, even before he’d ever toyed with the implausible fantasy of one day making her his, even before he knew what they did, or why they did it, why did they engage in such a pointless practice with such irritating frequency.

But now he understood, now, as he reveled in her intoxicating taste, grunting in exhilaration when her tongue lovingly caressed his, Vegeta learned the meaning behind such a gesture, an act that felt almost more intimate than sex itself, making him hate her ex-lover even more for having been given the undeserved chance to feel like this with her too.

The more he steadily relaxed in her arms, the more her supple body responded to him, arching and grinding in his lap, until the excruciating sensation of those ten little fingers passionately clutching fistfuls of his wild hair proved too hard to resist, temptingly inviting him to put his hands on her, encircling her waist with such force that her breath instinctively hitched in her chest, making his touch stop at once, petrified by the possibility of having hurt her.

“Ssshhh…” She shushed him with maddening tenderness, deeply moved by the touching concern blurring his features, and instantly calming him down by enfolding his thick forearms with her hands. “Softly… Like this…” Bulma panted lightly against his lips, drawing slow, lazy circles on his wrists with her tiny thumbs, instantaneously loosening his possessive hold on her. “That’s nice…” She reassured him, nuzzling his cheek when she sensed him getting comfortable once again, learning how to hold her just the right way. “That feels good, Vegeta… Really good…”            

Oh Gods, what a fool she was, what a pretty little fool, letting him near her, letting him touch her like this. One wrong move and her ribs would have cracked beneath his fingers, and yet here she was, trusting him again, and taking his breath away by kissing him within an inch of her life, her erratic breathing accelerating as he run his hands all over her, cherishing that small figure hidden under the unbearable softness of her oversized sweater, while he wondered how much, just how much of herself would she give him tonight, and finding his terrifying answer when he felt those needy hands tugging impatiently at the hem of his clothes.

Vegeta needn’t think twice, groaning in frustration as he humbly submitted to her, breaking their kiss with reluctance and taking off his jersey in one quick, smooth motion. He didn’t move any further, barely keeping his breathless puffing under control as her enigmatic stare, now roaming across his naked chest, chilled him to the bone.

Hideous, he thought gloomily to himself, she must have found him absolutely hideous, utterly repulsed by that grotesque roadmap of macabre scars, cuts and bruises. His flawless Saiyan anatomy should allow him, in theory, to heal and regenerate at a shockingly fast rate, but his ghastly, self-destructive training regime was making it virtually impossible for him to ever be fully healed these days, always plagued by fresh wounds and swollen lacerations, purple-and-blue slashes that the sensitive woman would so expertly clean and stitch for him, every single night without fail.

He was unlike any other man in her life, and he knew, nothing like those suave sons-of-bitches always prowling and lurking around her, with their expensive suits and leather briefcases, unscrupulous bastards who merely saw her as some attractive, wealthy trophy, instead of as the extraordinary creature that he now knew her to be.

After a painful silence, a secret part of him was already dreading the very real possibility of the woman getting cold feet now that she had him, quite literally, bare before her stunned eyes. But, as usual, Bulma Briefs was about to prove that she was no ordinary female either, and that the cryptic gleam in her eye stemmed, not from any form of repulsion towards his flawed flesh, but from her own beautifully distorted view of the world.    

“Does it hurt?” She asked with candid concern, airy fingertips tenderly outlining the large scar crossing his marred chest, his most recent one, the one which had ended up prostrating him on that damned infirmary for a whole week this time. He’d taken off his bandages as soon as Bulma’s father had given him his approval and, though the disturbingly deep gashes had mostly healed by now, they still retained a faint pinkish color, a reminder that the skin wasn’t fully restored yet.              

“No,” he answered throatily, not knowing how he could find a way to even talk to her anymore, not when she kept looking at him like this, touching and exploring him as if she’d never had a man before.

“That’s good…” Bulma murmured almost inaudibly, her shy hands regaining their confidence as they swirled slowly all over his muscular torso, her touch light as the wings of a bird, playfully running her fingers up and down, right until the thick waist of his jeans, only to travel upwards again, tracing a languid path up to his robust shoulders. “You’re beautiful…” She quietly professed, awe-struck eyes meeting his, cupping his blushing cheeks in her hands, and catching one of his thirsty moans in her mouth when her lips descended on his for another sensual kiss. “You’re so beautiful…” She reassured him, kissing him again, and again, lustfully indulging in the most pleasurable friction as she rubbed her body against him, her fear of hurting him slowly fading away.

He was beautiful, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, a body slim, yet built to perfection, moving, flowing, with the sinuous litheness of a black panther. He may not have been the biggest of men in the physical sense, but he surely walked with a command larger than life itself, brave and resolute, fearless and tenacious, a courageousness that demanded respect, even from those who held him in low esteem. The man holding her in his arms had lived hard and battled even harder, and perhaps, someday, he’d love with more intensity than any human heart ever could.

But there was no time tonight for fatuous thoughts of love and romance, there was only now, only this moment, and the way he was disarming her, her body like clay in his hands as he kept kissing and imprisoning her in the fiercest hold, finally taking control as he carefully nestled and lifted her body from the ground, rolling them over and lying her defenseless on her back.

Bulma stubbornly refused to let go of him at first, her lips aching for more, always for more, trying to make up for all the times, oh Kami, all the times she’d envisioned him like this, giving himself to her with such abandon, allowing her to open his blinded eyes so that she could teach him her ways. But it was he who put an end to their kiss this time, leaving her whimpering breathlessly on the extravagant rug, mourning the loss of his heat when he cautiously nudged her knees, spreading them apart as he knelt at her feet.

His large hands glided smoothly across her squirmy legs, until they found the perfect hips buried underneath her baggy sweater, dark eyes silently begging for permission to undress her as he hooked his fingers around the old fabric of the waist of her washed-out jeans, earning a shaky nod of assent from the restless woman inflamed with need under him.

The most enraptured glint burned his features as he slowly unzipped her clothing, pulling from it with gentle determination, and marveling at every inch of flesh unveiled just for him. When her lower body lay fully undressed, Vegeta paused for an instant, mesmerized by the hypnotizing effect that the warm glow of the sweltering fire had on her ivory skin, reds and oranges bathing those long legs already yearning to wrap themselves around him with ardent zeal.

Only when one of her feet boldly tried to reach the very evident proof of his desire for her, right between his legs, did he choose to resume his erotic journey, deftly removing those cursed, fluffy pink socks which had recently invaded his daydreams with such shameful frequency, and crawling bit by bit atop her, sinking his knees domineeringly on both sides of her small figure as she awkwardly helped him take off her baby blue sweater, avidly waiting for him to make his final move.

Years later, the Prince would still recall just how insanely adorable she’d looked to him that night, clad in nothing but her everyday cotton underwear, plain white adorned by a girly pattern of those bright red strawberries she loved so much. Just like it would take him far too long to understand that she’d been just as nervous as he had, as if they’d both intuitively known, even back then, that once they gave into each other, there would be no going back.

“Do…? Do you want to stop?” Bulma asked weakly when she sensed his vacillation, tremulous mouth breathing heavily against his as he kept still, staring anxiously at her as he committed to memory everything that she was, every beautiful curve and gesture, never wanting to forget her just as she was tonight.

Her insecurity moved him like nothing ever had, fervently putting her mind to rest with a smoldering kiss, basking in his own relief when she passionately kissed him back. A flash of scarlet seared his cheeks when her lips smirked playfully against his, giggling excitedly as she reached her back to unhook her bra by herself, when it soon became obvious that his clumsy hands had never before handled such a bizarre garment.

Vegeta’s hands hurried to get rid of whatever remained of his clothes, his need intensifying when her eager little fingers frantically reached down to his belt, unbuckling it with frenzied impatience as he unzipped his jeans, rapidly discarding them with the help of those feverish legs, wriggling and twisting against him until he was fully naked before her.

There was no indecision anymore, not even shame at the way his body was already reacting to her closeness, yanking off her panties as he kissed her again, a deep grumble reverberating in his chest when one of her hands draped itself around his hardness, while the other one settled fiercely on the back of his neck, pressing her mouth even harder against his, and nipping at his bottom lip as she sensually stroked his length.

Bulma’s movements were slow, sensuous, dazed blue eyes feasting on the masculine face contorting in pleasure at her timid but expert touch, squeezing his eyes shut in some poor attempt at self-control as he felt himself already coming undone with agonizing ease, his dam shattering, hopelessly exposed to the only woman who’d ever own his heart.

“Bulma…” He implored helplessly, exhaling a heavy sigh of release when she guided him to her wet entrance, plunging inside of her, burying himself to the hilt as a breathless cry tore up her throat.

“S-Slowly…” Bulma pleaded, teasing his lips with hers, clammy hands still barely holding onto his corded neck as she struggled to accommodate him.

He quietly fulfilled her wishes, just as he always would, bowing shakily, and reading the poem writing itself on her lovely face as she threw her head back, sobbing in bliss when his hips set out a new pace, slow and deep, a rhythmic quest to get to know, and possess, every beautiful part of her.

It was impossible, it was impossible for such a woman to ever fully belong to him, but perhaps, tonight, as they made love under the warm protection of her sheltering fire, they could pretend. They could pretend that he wasn’t who he was, and that every conceivable sin didn’t hang over his head, fooling themselves into the impossible fantasy of being just a man and a woman, giving into each other in the most ancient and primal of rituals.

Bulma’s rosy cheek met the opulent rug as she pressed it against it, closing her eyes and pouting deliciously, filling the room with soft, muffled moans that were like music to the Prince’s ears.

He held as tightly as he could, clutching one of the thighs possessively encircling his waist with one of his arms as he cradled her delicate head in the curve of the other, gently removing a damp curl from her pale forehead as his nose found her temple, nuzzling her darling face while drowning in her provocative aroma. Her porcelain skin was already coated in a thin sheen of moisture, glistening faintly under the warm, flickering radiance of the fire, and it was becoming impossible not to get lost in the thick, lusty scent of sex heavily permeating the air.    

“Vegeta…” She whimpered with want, supplicant eyes finding his as her hands descended uncontrollably from his shoulders to his perfect bottom, nails digging into his unyielding flesh and pulling harder, inviting him to rush that luscious, animalistic flow already making her fall into pieces in his arms.

His dizzy mind might have lost any semblance of reason long ago, but his body knew just what she needed, gladly caving in, giving her his all, anything she’d ever want, by quickening his pace and thrusting faster, harder, stripping the most extraordinary cries of pleasure out of her lips, and forever keeping them to himself.

He heaved a relieved breath of gratitude when Bulma hid her smitten face in the crook of his neck, never letting go of him, but sensing how vulnerable, how incredibly unguarded he was feeling in that instant. His body told her that he’d had other women during his turbulent past, but an even stronger instinct was screaming at her that he’d never had someone in such an intimate way.

And she was right for, as Vegeta held securely onto her, glorying in that sweet, fluttery voice, whispering words of encouragement and desire in his ear, and confessing how much she liked, how much she loved what he was doing to her, he knew that it’d never been like this.

He’d never had the honor to experience this wistful emotion taking a hold of him, loving hands touching and caressing him as if he were the only man in existence, or that rush, that exhilarating rush of satisfaction when he felt that small, hopelessly soft body writhing in ecstasy underneath him as her impending climax ripped through her.

She tightened urgently around him, a stream of blinding electricity ravaging her as she cried his name with intense ardor, crumbling in his arms, those ravenous arms pulling her even closer, insatiably nestling her body against him, already bursting at the seams, grappling with his own desperate need to succumb to her.

“I-It’s okay… You can let go…” Bulma’s trembling voice murmured into his skin, gently seducing him as she recognized the aching tension overpowering him, beckoning him to surrender, to forget about his every haunting inhibition and give himself to her, if only this once. “Let go, Vegeta…”    

The ghost of a string of alien words ruptured from his lips as he spilled himself inside of her, a deep grunt thundering in his lungs, swamped by the sensation of those silky arms and legs still clinging to him, never abandoning him, never letting go, relishing his own peak of pleasure as if it were her own.  

Vegeta fell tiredly on top of her, without thinking, without speaking, melting powerlessly under the soothing power of that pair of shuddering hands fondling and stroking his magnificent skin, kissing and petting his hair, and happily luring him to stay with her for as long as he’d ever want to, the sad atlas of tortured scars tainting his back suddenly feeling just a little closer, a little less foreign than it used to be.

A soft, snug blanket carefully covered his stark-naked form, enveloping him in a cottony cloud of safety, almost as soft as the woman providing it for him, heavy eyelids drooping on her contented shoulder, vaguely registering the distant uproar of the stormy blizzard pouring outside, and the crisp rustle of the logs gradually turning to ashes in her luxurious fireplace.

For a lifetime of carnage, snow had always signified the most degrading pain, and fire nothing but cancerous destruction. But, on a cold Christmas night, everything was Her, and the first dreamless sleep he’d ever been blessed with as he peacefully dozed off in her caring embrace.    

  *sigh*

It looks like Veggie finally got to discover what Christmas is all about?

I hope you've enjoyed my lil' Christmas stories so far! I know it's not Christmas anymore, but I may add a few more chapters in the future, if you guys are okay with it, since I had some little tales in mind that I really wanted to explore.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading, as always, and I hope you all have the BEST 2019!!!

*hugs*

[yo-namine]

Okay, I’m not done with this idea, so...

To start off, Riku and Kairi's relationship post-KH3 is a little, uh.... strained. After everything that happened in the Graveyard, Riku really doesn't trust Kairi to hold her own at all. They both want to go search for a way to revive Sora, but Riku's pretty dead-set on Kairi staying safe at home while he does all the actual work. He's already lost one friend, and he's not risking losing another. Kairi argues that if he's going to go chasing the Lich, he needs someone like her who can bring him back, but her argument kind of falls flat because her PoH abilities have been pretty shaky ever since Sora died because, well, her heart's broken. So Riku doesn't budge, and Kairi's left feeling useless and powerless to help her friends. Again. Also, Kairi can tell that Riku does sort of lowkey resent her for being a liability back in the Graveyard. Riku knows it's unfair of him, but he can't help how he feels. And while Riku really does want to keep her safe, Kairi feels that he's also shutting her out as a way to penalize her for costing them Sora's life. Angst ensues. Basically, instead of working together on a way to bring back Sora, Riku and Kairi end up pushing each other away and doubtlessly making things harder than they need to be. 🎉🎉🎉

Obviously, Kairi isn't going to just stay home. She thinks that if she can fully regain her powers, she may be able to restore Sora like she did in KH1, or get some kind of tether on him from the Realm of Light like she did in KH3. So she decides to sneak off on her own to first go find the other former Princesses of Heart to see if they can teach her more about her abilities, and then hopefully get her powers back and use them to revive Sora or at least help Riku. And admittedly, there’s a small, petty part of her that just wants to prove to Riku that she's not useless.

Naminé catches on to what Kairi's planning and wants to come with her to help however she can. Kairi kept her alive for the last couple of years, so Naminé is basically RIDE OR DIE for this girl at this point. If Kairi wants to go save Sora, then dammit, they’re gonna go save Sora. That said, she probably feels guilty enough to leave Riku a note or something just telling him that she and Kairi left together and everything's fine and to please not freak out. Riku reads it and is like "for fuck's sake," decides to go look for them (on top of everything else he's doing).

I'm... not really sure how Xion gets involved tbh. Maybe she initially wants to help Riku find Kairi and bring her home, but then switches sides once she realizes that Kairi's just trying to prove herself? Anyway, Xion is a total badass and (in this story, at least) has some of her Days boss battle abilities still in her arsenal, so after she joins the other girls, they're able to venture into more worlds that they'd had to avoid before because the combat level was too high they were too dangerous. During their journey, Xion gives Kairi lots of pointers that do her way more good as a keyblade wielder than whatever Merlin had her and Axel doing in that time chamber.

There's initially some tension between Kairi and Xion because Xion is supposed to be "Kairi as Sora remembers her," and in this story, Xion's clearly much stronger and (now that she's free of the Organization) cheerier than the real Kairi. So Kairi feels like she's hanging around a better version of herself all the time, and it takes effort to not let her bitterness over it show. It also doesn't help that Kairi's spending most of her time with two people who are like embodiments of Sora's love for her (Naminé being the Nobody that was created from Sora housing Kairi's heart in his, Xion being made up of Sora's memories of Kairi). Theoretically, that knowledge should be comforting, but it really just ends up rubbing some extra salt in that "Sora's dead and it's all my fault" wound.

While they're off on their journey, Riku tries to call Kairi almost every day, but she never picks up because she knows he'll just try to talk her into going home. Eventually Axel calls her, and it's fine until she realizes he's trying to weasel her whereabouts out of her so he can pass the info along to Riku. After that, she keeps her phone off.

Kairi, Naminé, and Xion start to work really well together after a while both because of their skill sets (Xion being the powerhouse, Naminé the healer, Kairi the warrior-still-in-training), but also because they have a lot in common. Xion can empathize pretty strongly with Kairi feeling like she's just a liability. Naminé knows how it feels to be used by people more powerful than you to hurt someone you care about. The trio develops a pretty deep understanding of one another, and they help each other rationalize and work through their problems/insecurities (like Xion has a tendency to get irritated/overly defensive when her judgment's questioned because, well, she also isn't sure if she can trust her own mind sometimes thanks to the Org reprogramming her in the past. Naminé has some pretty deep-rooted abandonment issues that are part of the reason she clings to Kairi as much as she does. Kairi has survivor's guilt in spades.). Character development ensues.

Naminé does Not like combat or just hurting things in general, hence why she sticks to healing. She does still have her heart-shattering ability from CoM, but she never wants to use it again (especially considering whose replica vessel she’s inhabiting these days).

Meanwhile, Riku thinks the other masters will help him with figuring out how to either find the Lich or contact Sora somehow, but nope. Yen Sid and Mickey don't want him going after the Lich or "chasing hearts," potentially costing them another valuable wielder getting himself killed. Aqua's more inclined to let him do what he thinks is right, but she's also doubtful that Sora's heart is even salvageable at this point. She tells Riku what she knows from her own training just because she feels he has the right to that information as a master, but that's about it. Beyond that, Riku's basically on his own. Without any real leads, Riku decides to visit different worlds to learn more about their differing concepts of death/the afterlife (so like the Underworld in Olympus, the Locker in the Caribbean, etc.). A lot of worlds have legends of creatures similar to the Lich that ferry the dead and all that cool stuff, so he makes note of that while also scouting the place for Kairi. He might also run into Maleficent at some point and learn something from her (since idk, she commanded the Heartless for a while, so maybe she knows something about the Lich)?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The trio runs into Riku once early on, and it... doesn't go that well. Riku's still not keen on Kairi running off (plus he's probably kind of annoyed that Naminé and Xion sided with her over him despite them both being his friends for way longer, oop), and Kairi's still frustrated that Riku has 0 faith in her and won't let her help him. They basically have the same argument they did back home, only now there's been more time for resentment to build. On top of that, they're both grieving over Sora without really knowing that they are (because neither's willing to even consider the idea that he may not be savable), and both feel like the other's abandoned them when they need them the most. Anyway, their fight doesn't accomplish anything other than hurting each other further. They split up again after Riku tells Kairi to just answer her damn phone every once and a while. She doesn't.

So Kairi meets up with the former PoHs as she travels worlds. She's lucky that Riku's on bad terms with half of these ladies and is gonna steer clear of Wonderland, Agrabah, and Beast's Castle. Kairi gets advice and some training from each of the princesses on how to tune out her own self-doubts and focus her magic on what she wants to accomplish. Her biggest help is probably Belle just because that lady spent SO MUCH TIME in Hollow Bastion's library in KH1 probably reading everything about light/darkness. That, and I think Belle kind of uses a tethering ability in KH1 to bring the Beast to Hollow Bastion (or at least, the Beast says he got there just by ~believing~, so maybe it's a two-way connection or something), so she may have a better understanding of her (former) powers than the others. Anyway, Kairi slowly starts regaining her powers, and they only get better as her confidence/faith in herself improves. Eventually, she starts working Faith/Holy into her combat moves and "tethering" to the other girls just to see if she can. She's able to use the latter ability to sense out where exactly Naminé and Xion are whenever they're separated from one another. Connecting with people in the same world is easy enough, but doing it across worlds/realms is trickier, so she practices reaching out to Riku occasionally with mixed results. She gets to where she can figure out where he is, but she can't communicate with him, and she's not sure if that's due to her abilities being too weak or if it's because she and Riku have been shutting each other out (spoilers: It's mostly the latter.).

The trio has another run-in with Riku later on. He and Kairi have another argument, but it's more constructive this time around. Riku starts to call her out on leaving him to go on this journey (because unlike her, he's been going it alone this whole time, and it's really starting to get to him), but she points out that she only left him before he could leave her. Everything kind of starts to click after that. Riku eventually apologizes for trying to leave her behind, Kairi apologizes for shutting him out for so long. There's still some tension between them, but it starts to ebb once they finally start working together on a plan to bring Sora back.

Kairi finally turns her phone back on to find approximately 34978593487 missed calls from Riku. She also sees that he left her a few voicemails, and while Riku says she can just delete them, she keeps them to listen to later when he's not around.

....I'm not sure how this ends? Part of me likes the idea of Sora just... staying dead and everyone moving forward with their lives because that's all you can do, really. But another part of me really likes the idea of Riku and Kairi finding the Lich and figuring out a way to split the price for Sora between them. Maybe they have to give up a fraction of their hearts or cut time off their lifespans to give to Sora's. And they both agree to just not tell Sora about that once he's back.

I realize I'm leaving a TON of characters out of this story lmao. I don't know what everyone else would be up to. tbh Ven could probably save Riku and Kairi a lot of trouble just by introducing them to his magic cat that apparently knows all about the afterlife, but.......................... whatever.

[basementbeholden]

Trials of the Dead Ch:1

Visit {AO3} for a Non-Stylized version of this writing.

The anger of the entity grew white-hot in intensity. The Skies were nearly flooded by the shattered glass-like embers marking the “dawn” of something new. They all should have given up by now. Survivors and killers alike should have all Festered and a new batch should have been brought. It had truly never lasted this long. 

The entity decided a final mountain should be added to trials. It’s killers would be stronger in said wake but maybe the onslaughts would dull down the edges of such beasts and let them succumb to their short-comings. Maybe they’d all give in and be proper fuel for the nightmare realm it had created.

As the skies dimmed so did the fire, for the first time safety didn’t feel so safe. Jake sat in his tree with a flick the dim light from his lighter illuminated his face so as to be visible as he talked down. The first voice to pierce the silent dark-

“I’ve learned a lot here and I doubt I’m done learning, but I think that was a bad sign.” His voice quiet, eyes flicking about scanning the darkness.

“No damn shit Goblin-Boy.” Meg tried making light with a half-hearted smile but nonetheless worry consumed her. 

“Hush! The both of ya!” Bill snapped alert as Jake but more battle-worn he peered into the dark. 

Others frozen almost in fear or even wonder watching. Detective Tapp soon joined the watch. Then Quentin, Ash and Jeff. Quietly staring into a deep black abyss. It actually caught Adam’s eyes first, the photographer was good at catching minute details and soon saw a pair of eyes deep in the dark.

“We have eyes- Human height- shit..” A panicked whisper escaped him as he crept closer to the fire’s remains now near-embers it hardly glowed. 

Bill quickly took a defensive stance as with Tapp holding a flashlight at the ready. Jake took hold of a branch far too weak to carry his weight, hoping to rip it down and then jumped down off the tree, ripping the branch down with Far more clatter than he intended. 

In the moment the intensity changed and the noise startled not only those by the fire but also the thing they’d caught glimpse of. A silent moment dies with a garbled wail as the set of eyes turns into two into four into eight then twelve. All survivors now on their feet.

“SHIT!” Bill took a brief realization then quickly sprung to combat better than any man his age should be able to. Tapp and King followed suit Dwight began digging through bloodwebs to find something, anything that would help.

“Aha!” Dwight, nose bleeding cheered as he dug a small hatchet out of a now brackish charcoal-like patch in the ground that faded as soon as it sprung fourth. “David! Catch!” He shouted and both King turned around. David Tapp had learned long ago Dwight would usually always call him Mr. Tapp or detective. David quickly caught the new weapon wordlessly and began Properly bashing these hard to see attackers but if bill saw a threat so did he.

After about an hour of fighting the things it started to calm down, those with medical skills now stressed about the injuries to their team and what the hell the opponent was. Nothing fatal but still worrisome. 

“Everyone okay? You all still awake and with us?” Adam called out to the group. He was the louder of the two medical “professionals.” Though Claudette isn’t someone who lets you just walk all over her, she tends not to shout because she considers it a waste of breath. 

A few nods and some vague noises of agreement and Adam quickly moved to the next question. “So then, what the hell was all that?”

Before anyone else could make any guesses bill butted in. “What do you think that was kid? God Damn Zombies out here where it was already bad enough. Now we have this shit to deal with.” Bill sounded near out of breath but wouldn’t let it stop him from lighting another cigarette and taking a long puff. 

Even Jake and Jeff separated themselves from everyone else slightly to take a puff of something stress-relieving Ace quickly followed them as he had figured out long ago what Exactly they were smoking. He didn’t always partake but in this moment he figured as long as he didn’t overdo it he’d be able to keep going with a little less pain from his younger-years. 

As they settled and began removing bodies they noticed a few of their own missing. The fire bright once more conclusions were soon come to that trials had began again, though who knows how safe the fire really is anymore.

-------------------------

The usual routines now disturbed by this odd light-show a few killers who had made some semblance of a “living” if you could call it that, now watch from their places. More keen and aware than the survivors, the few who find companionship or friendliness in this harsh environment now face a similar foe but with much more composure.

Wraith, Trapper and Hillbilly find themselves fighting beside each other. Spirit, Nurse and Huntress find a similar coexistence. The legion gang fend for themselves alike Myers and Clown. Hag and Pig find a neutral ground and defend each other mostly for their own benefits while Plague finds herself comforted by these atrocities. 

The boys disposed of the zombies fairly quickly but it’s not so easy afterwards. Confusion ensues and a very curious Max can’t help but ask a million and four questions about these things. Philip being unable to talk and Evan having no answers leaves Max wandering the outskirts of their little dwelling looking for more of the things to beat and/or question. In a moment of frustration he finally asks:

“EVAN! Why’d these things come to us anyways? ‘Mean like, we killed ‘em too quick for ‘em to think we was actually smomethin’ they could beat!” Evan’s emotionless mask finally turned towards the curious one.

“Maybe we have something they want. Maybe Them Below sent them after us. I don’t fully know Max, were learning this together.” He sounded almost irritated, but that was usual. Exhaustion and irritation were commonplace for the behemoth. 

The girls had a little more trouble but only because they didn’t have everything at their disposal they normally did. It hurt for Sally and Rin to constantly enter the spirit world. Meanwhile Anna didn’t have near-infinite hatchets the entity allowed her to create and provided places in fairly easy access.

“I’d say that could have gone better.” Sally patted her dress down brushing off dirt and bits of dried blood.

“Better than we are not hurting.” Anna replied nearly out of breath. Picking her posture back up after making sure the little hovel she’d scrapped together wasn’t damaged.

“We must hope those do not come back to Haunt us.” Rin snickered just a little. “Or we might never see each other again!” her voice echoed out in anger. So quickly her curse messed with her mentality.

Legion dealt with it with bits of bickering between each knife stab.

“GET IT TOGETHER WE’RE NOT DYING TO THESE SHITS!” Frank barked.

“I am, Frank! Jeez calm your ass down were FINE.” Julie never once questioned her ability to fight and she wouldn’t start now.

“I am! i swear! You can’t just yell at me for nothing Frank!” Susie huffed, almost whining as she took an arm clean off one of the undead foes before them.

“I wish you all would shut up and just Keep Fighting.” Joey’s words almost hissed as he continued to take heads from spines.

Amanda and Lisa had probably the most trouble fighting though, Lisa wasn’t interested in the things whatsoever and Amanda just wanted to get back to tinkering on her traps.

“You know this doesn’t change that i despise your Death-Game.” Lisa’s comment made sure she was clear where she stood on all this. She never would have killed had it not been for what was done to her. Now she couldn’t escape it.

“Whatever just work with me here okay?” Amanda wanted to believe Lisa’s mentality was right but she didn’t dare defy Them. The spider deity was far too unforgiving for her to decide rebellion was a good idea.

Though others were alone they didn’t struggle much due to size or strength or even just strategy. Ghostface lingered around other killers hoping to lose anything following him until he could pick off a few and escape back to his solitude. 

The beginning had everyone on their toes but what was to come, no one could prepare for. The Entity was pissed and now all beneath them would suffer.

[theveryworstthing]

Another patreon kelpie story.

Margie went in with the boxes and the packing tape once the police were done with the mess on the shore. The family would be flying out tomorrow, and she felt it was kinder to have everything already boxed up and ready for shipping before they got here. Less for them to worry about in their time of grief. Less time for strangers to wander the bloodstained grounds.

Such a shame. He had been so nice to her. It was refreshing having one of them treat her like like a person instead of a quirky prop for their ‘Life-Changing Scottish Adventure At The Kelpie’s Cottage’.

The young man hadn’t been the first to take interest in the kelpie. It was big local news for a while,as any unglamored fae openly walking round modern Scotland would be. Not that everyone didn’t believe there were fae still among them (there was strong evidence for it in the fates of the people who didn’t) but there were definitely less of them and they were usually not feebly nosing through bins at the park.

Usually.

She still remembered the day her father drove them all out to the edges of the fenced off area to get a look at the orphaned creature. It was sickly and small, all bones and pathetic whiffles from its oddly thin snout. Thick twitching tendrils sprouted from where it’s mane and tail should be. Its actual whip-like tail curled between its legs in a terrified spiral. It was Wrong. Not wrong like a fae is naturally wrong, but wrong like a hermit crab pulled out of it’s shell with a pair of pliers and held under a magnifying glass. She knew what a kelpie was supposed to look like. Her grandma had yellowed polaroids of beautiful horses hiding their hooves in tall grass and pacing the lake shore near her childhood village.  Their manes were so long that they trailed the ground like curling veils braided with delicate strands of seaweed, and their fur was so black that the sunlight gave them an iridescent sheen.

They looked like the sort of creatures that could entice a person into a watery grave.

The gangly young creature by the river sneezed so hard it fell down and proceeded to lay there, whining.

She had asked her father about the obvious discrepancies in majestically tousled manes, but he could only guess that it had been either inbred from the remaining illusive kelpie stock or crossbred with something wandering in from stranger waters or a genetic throwback. Either way, something went pear shaped there. Or, thinking outside the box, that could just be how normal unglamored kelpie foals looked. Difficult to tell what’s normal with fae.  

They had watched for a while before her father took the cooler out of the trunk and handed them hunks of chicken meat to throw to the pathetic thing. You weren’t supposed to. The local government’s official stance on the kelpie was that nature should be allowed to take its course. It would never survive comfortably as it was (they assumed), so obviously not of our realm (they hoped), so trapped in its current form (they were pretty damn sure). Better to let it die peacefully.

More objection to this ruling had been expected at first, but since it seemed abandoned anyway and being brutally murdered by a kelpie is inconvenient at best, most people weren’t keen on the population getting any help. Margie’s family was out there though. Her grandmother had taught them all to never be rude to the fae, and watching one of their infants die in a dumpster certainly seemed in the realm of rudeness to her father. If any foolish mortals met an ironic magic-based death over this one, it wouldn’t be his kids.

The chicken meat stuck to the kelpie wherever it touched. It was like the translucent gray skin hid tiny grasping mouthes that latched onto the flesh and slowly sucked it into the hollows between delicate newborn ribs. Margie watched, fascinated, as the kelpie’s breathing evened. It lay still for a few more minutes before gathering the energy to rise to it’s feet and awkwardly shambling towards the river. It looked back at them once before sliding into the water trailing bits chicken carcass.

The land was under her father’s ownership within days of the town finding out. They fed it. Their problem.

Margie carefully packaged the laptop in another layer of bubble wrap (the police had taken the phone they fished out of the mud). It would be a shame to lose whatever data the young man had collected on his short stay. For the researchers that came here that always seemed to be the most important thing. People left the cottage with all sorts of missing bits but they always said that the stay was worth it for what they learned from observing a real, live, unglamored fae up close. She didn’t know if the dead felt the same way, but she was always careful to get their notes back home and there hadn’t been any (new) ghosts yet so she assumed she was doing something right.

She’d grown up watching the feeble monster toddle around the riverside, and took over upkeep of the cottage after dad started having back problems. The fae had never filled out into the enchanting stallion with my little pony hair of her childhood daydreams. Some of its angles had been smoothed down with regular feedings, its tendrils had bloomed into curling fronds, and its peach-fuzz fur had grown in dark, but it still looked…like that. It had never learned to use glamor either from what they could tell. Sometimes they’d see a little flicker of change, a slight shift in eye shape, a pinky momentarily sticking out of a hoof, or a wave of black iridescent fur that rippled down it’s body and disappeared in a shudder. It was even worse when it really went for it. She saw it once, tucked away in the river reeds when she was twelve. It sat on the ground staring straight ahead while it’s skull shifted from something almost horse to something almost human. The bones clicked as they rearranged and she couldn’t help but liken it to someone patiently turning the keys in a car that refused to start. The engine sputters, and for a moment a little of a waifish boy seems to congeal out of the beast. Its form reverts on the next breath, and it flopped to its side panting. Nothing more grand than that though. It could also talk a little, but only very rarely and only very softly and only for very important things. It coughed a lot afterwords, like the effort hurt it’s throat.

When the researchers came asking if they could stay in the cottage and observe it, her father agreed (after getting a lawyer friend to whip up some release forms). The family needed the money and what ill could come of knowing more about the amphibious monster horse you are raising on your property.

The answer was some ill. But not enough ill to stop people from coming.

Watching over the kelpie was about the same as watching over any large, dangerous, intelligent, predatory animal that humans are compelled to treat like a domesticated house pet. Beyond feedings, passing comments, and polite inquires about its health, Margie’s family didn’t really bother the kelpie unless it got their attention. It wasn’t eating the townsfolk (at least nobody anybody liked) and it seemed to have it’s own hobbies evidenced by the intricate stick configurations and stashes of waterlogged found items lining the riverside. They’d grown up neighbors to the fae and knew that minding your business was a very underrated survival tactic. Other people…  

It was easy enough to walk the newcomers through proper distance during feeding time but harder to keep them from getting too emotionally close to keep hold of common sense. The kelpie was a fae after all. While it didn’t seem to have the classic fae thrall, it had an alien beauty and a strange scrappy charm about it. It was an orphan, one of the last of its kind, who must navigate a realm not it’s own, deformed without the natural powers its kind wield with ease, who struggles to communicate with those around them because people fear it. That’s empathy gold. In fact, most of Margie’s job consisted of long stretches of house repair and internet surfing boredom (she’d joined a forum for people living on cursed or haunted properties that was surprisingly lively and sociable),  punctuated by short bursts of panicked running toward the screams of a flailing person with one hand engulfed in horse (?) flesh. A person who usually thought they had completely earned the kelpie’s mercy through their newfound understanding of the fae world and wanted to give it a friendly pet away from her warning gaze. Surely it would accept them. They were so reverent after all. They honored the fae, and that’s why they came here. They, the chosen humans brave enough to part to veil and seek understanding with these amazing creatures. Who even cared for this beautifully broken specimen. Not like these scared yokels. Truly they were of one heart.

Margie saw how the kelpie watched those people. She doubted it felt the same way. She doubted they ever really asked it.

She turned up her music and tried not to think about the young man, pretending she was used to how awful all this was. She needed to have a talk with her dad about this whole situation.

She didn’t hear the door creak open until it was too late.

The kelpie stood on three legs in the open doorway, the fourth leg held up in front of it with trembling effort. She stared at it as the hoof tried to violently untwist itself from the shape of a human hand. It stared at her as it forced it’s twitching fingers to grasp the key in the door and work it free. When it finally managed the task, it shuffled over and dropped the keys in her lap.

The room smelled like blood.

Margie slowly picked up the spare cottage keys and watched the spasming hand unravel in relief.

“He. Dropped…them.” The kelpie muttered. “Can’t let things….in……dangerous things. Outside.”

Margie sat still. It was so close to her. She couldn’t run. Holy shit she was actually afraid of it. She’d have to reach underneath it for her iron knife. Holy shit she’d never really processed how afraid of it she’s been. Ever since that first time she had to hack a stranger’s finger off to free them. What if she slipped and ran face first into it? She imagined the flesh peeled off her cheeks by the tiny mouths hiding under the kelpie’s skin and tried not to hyperventilate.

“Thank you,” she said instead, her voice adrenaline calm.

The creature nodded and leaned closer until she could feel one of its tendrils brush her arm. It was like moist velvet, and it stuck to her skin briefly before moving away. The key began to cut into her hand as she gripped it tighter.

“Sorry abouthim. You. Liked……but he found…let it-” the kelpie turned its head as a series of short sharp coughs tore through it’s chest. It looked exhausted.

“Lock. Door.”

Margie nodded.

The kelpie turned around and left the way it came, Margie as close behind as fear would allow. She watched it slink towards the dark overgrowth of the river until it was far beyond the police tape and out of sight.

She managed not to collapse until everything was closed and locked.